Of Heaven and Hell
by one-hep-cat
Summary: After the death of friends, Heero seeks out Duo and finds a mess in place of the man he knew. But who ends up healing whom? Post-war. Past character death. Yaoi. Rating subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**Of Heaven and Hell**

_I tried to resist… I really tried. I didn't want to post this until I finished Unstable or Special Delivery. But my ability to resist temptation is nil. So please forgive me and enjoy this shiny, brand new story anyway!_

_Disclaimer: I make no money from this. Obviously!_

_Warnings: Past character deaths (two of our dear pilots, though it kills me to have killed them off), violence, language, lemons, yaoi, (all the usual good stuff!), and a valiant effort at some serious angst. All in all, if any of that displeases you… well… you've been warned! _

**Chapter 1:**

My name is Yuy Heero; Heero Yuy to those who aren't Asian (no relation to the assassinated politician of the same name.) This name is not my real name, but I don't know what my real name is. Maybe I don't have one. I've kept _this_ name simply because it suits me about as well as anything else does.

I am 5'8", 141 pounds. My hair is brown, eyes are blue. I look average, I guess. Of course, looks don't tell all. At approximately twenty years old (give or take a year), I've been a war veteran for almost three and a half years.

I have no family that I am aware of and few whom I would call friends. With what some call an abrasive personality, I guess it's not surprising that I am single, though I wasn't always. Fellow soldier Duo Maxwell and I somehow ended up together after the war.

Yes. I'm gay, if it matters.

Anyway, the first years of post-war life did not treat us well emotionally. We didn't treat _each other_ too well as a result. The relationship ended under the mutual understanding that we would've killed each other otherwise.

Right now I have/had a job with the Preventers, which is a worldwide law enforcement agency established for keeping general order after the wars. One would think that I would be sick of seeing the viral underbelly of mankind. But it keeps me busy.

The reason behind the ambiguous 'have/had' statement is that my boss Une issued me an ultimatum after I "assaulted" one of my partners: get therapy or get out. My response was rather uncivilized, the gist of it being she could damn well fire me because I _wasn't_ going to therapy. There was nothing a therapist would tell me that I didn't already know.

Besides, I wouldn't go after someone who didn't deserve it. _That_ bastard deserved what came to him. The Preventers don't have room for morons. And it wasn't an _assault_. It was a few well-placed punches. Unfortunately, the one thing I know about Une is that she doesn't make idle threats. She fired me.

While I've always understood the concept that money does not grow on trees (it's not even made out of paper), it took a while to get used to the truth that the good doctors, masterminds behind the feared Gundams, were no longer funding my existence. And, unfortunately, bill collectors don't take threats as payment. The money I have in the bank will continue to deplete if I'm out of a job, though I can make it last a considerable amount of time if I must. I am in need of a good, stable job. Flipping burgers won't cut it.

Une promised to return my position at full pay if I _did_ choose to go to therapy and could make any marked improvement while attending. She must be desperate for quality operatives to offer even _that_ to a man as 'unstable' as I am. Eventually, I agreed to go. Not because I am desperate to get my job back (I'm not sure I want a job that forces me to engage in an activity that is converse to my nature), but because it can't hurt. If I don't like what the therapist is saying, I won't go a second time. Simple as that.

This is how I ended up sitting in my new therapist's waiting room, hardly reading this week's copy of World News Weekly that lay open on my lap.

"Hero Yuh-yuh-"

I cringe at the young man's failed attempt to pronounce my name. You'd think that everyone would know it, considering it is the name of a well-known advocate of peace who was assassinated… Did he fail to acknowledge current events as they happened around him or did he just fail history class?

"-the doctor is ready to see you now."

Getting to my feet, I toss the magazine back into the basket on the small table before me and I skirt around it towards the therapist's actual office. There is an unnerving tingle in my gut, a telling sign that I should leave. My entire being is resisting this. Of course, I'm not the sort to back out of a commitment. If I said I would give this therapy idea a shot, then I would give it a shot. Even if it kills me.

"Hello, you must be Heero Yuy," says a pleasant voice that pronounces my name correctly. "I'm Ulysses Reed."

My eyes take a quick sweep around the room. Windows on either side of a desk offer a third-story view of the town (evening rush-hour is in full swing). There is a door to my back. In front of me, a sand-colored sofa and two sand-and-green striped chairs surround a small table, a hindrance for potential escape… Finally, I settle my gaze on the doctor before me. He is a tall man of no certain ancestry with clear gray eyes and neatly trimmed brown hair liberally shot through with more gray. A well-groomed beard on his face mimics the coloring of his hair.

I take the hand he has extended to me and give it a brief squeeze before stepping aside so Reed can close the door behind me. His grip is firm and confident, but there is no attempt at a power play (which I'm pretty sure I'd win, frankly). This is a good start. At this point in time he has no desire to overpower and destroy me.

"Feel free to take a seat, if it will make you more comfortable." He gestures to the furniture and I choose the sofa, eyes widening as I sink into the cushions far more than I had expected.

Reed grabs a notepad and takes an equally squashy chair adjacent to the sofa. "Why don't we start with why you're here?"

"Excuse me?"

"What I mean is what brings you here? What do you hope to get out of these sessions?"

I frown a little. I filled out an invasive questionnaire while waiting to talk to the man. I thought that would answer everything he'd want to ask. I thought he'd get straight to the point of this whole… therapy mess. Did he not bother to read the stupid thing?

"I am here at the recommendation of my boss."

"Recommendation of your boss?" He sounds as if he finds this very intriguing.

"She seems to think I have… anger management issues."

"Do you agree with her assessment?"

I reflect upon the question for a moment. As a reflex, I would defensively say no. But I suppose punching a coworker for being an idiot isn't exactly a good example of anger well managed. I shrug. "It's not as bad as it used to be."

"How would you say it used to be?" Reed asks.

Again, I shrug. "Worse?"

He smiles. "All right then. Why don't you explain what you feel led to your boss recommending counseling?"

I give him an impatient look. "I already answered these questions on your questionnaire." The man has three degrees in very nice frames posted on the wall behind him. Surely that is a sign he can, at the very least, _read._

"You did," Reed agrees. "This is just a standard first session. It allows the two of us to become comfortable with each other on a general level. These questions allow you to elaborate on your answers, if you feel it necessary at this point, and me to make rudimentary observations on how all this makes you… feel, for lack of a lesser cliché."

"Ah." Maybe that makes sense. Obviously I haven't been to many therapists so I'm unable make the comparison. "Well… she recommended it to me after I knocked a coworker out with a few… well-placed punches."

"Well-placed punches? How exactly do you define that?"

"Um. They were well-placed."

"As in… you aimed for your coworker's pressure points?"

"No. I would've killed him if I hit his pressure points."

"I see. So you mean 'well-placed' as in a way to effectively disable him without… causing permanent damage?"

That sounds about right.

"And why did you strike your coworker?"

"He was being stupid." Because I can sense Reed's next question, I just continue. "I am to discard what slows me down or gets in my way. It is detrimental to my life to hang on to someone or something that does either of those."

"That's quite a way to deal with life."

I shrug. "I was raised a soldier." What more of an explanation could he want? Though I guess… looking back on my training, on my missions, 'soldier' is probably a bit tame. I don't know what you'd call it though. Assassin and mercenary and terrorist all rolled into one. I was a badass motherfucker, as Duo often said. Finally, I hum in admittance.

"The war is over."

"Maybe for the civilian. But there are people who don't forget so easily."

"Explain it to me."

I frown. "What's to explain?"

Reed studies me for a moment, gets the hint that I have nothing more to say on the topic, and nods. "All right then. Why don't you tell me a little about your loved ones?"

"Loved ones…" I repeat dully.

"I have, of course, read through your questionnaire," he reminds me. "I know you mentioned you don't have a family. But people you care for, such as mentors, friends, friends with benefits, lovers."

"I don't have many friends. Two are dead. One is my roommate. I… well, I haven't heard from one in almost a year." Has it really been that long? The last time I saw him was… at the funeral. "I don't have a lover anymore and I've no need for friends with benefits."

"Why don't you tell me about them?"

"My friends? Or lover?"

"Both."

I scowl. "Well, which do you want? I won't know what you want unless you tell me!" I can't stand it when people don't have some sort of direction, particularly if they want something out of me.

"You'd prefer this be more structured?"

"In a word, yes." Why can't we focus our discussions on what is necessary to figure out the root of my 'problem' and be done with it? Things will go much faster that way.

Reed must either get this sort of reaction a lot or possess the ability to read my mind because he goes on to explain how the human mind is a complex thing and the root of a problem can be so obscure that you might not recognize it for what it is. "Now, you are free to disclose or withhold whatever information and details you wish. Of course, any help I can offer will be based on what you tell me and what I can observe from your behavior."

Which I translate as if I want to figure out what the hell my problems are, I need to tell him everything. Not something I'm looking forward to.

"Aren't there pills you can prescribe me that will fix whatever is wrong?" I ask irritably.

He smiles. "Call me old fashioned but I believe pills don't fix all problems. Even if I were to prescribe pills, I still need to find the root of the problem." Folding his hands over his stomach, he nods at me. "Well, since you prefer the structure, why don't we discuss your lover first?"

"What do you want to know?"

"How you met. Personality. Quirks you like or dislike. Anything you wish to tell me."

His idea of structure is sorely lacking. Frowning, I settle down to answer the questions he asked first. We'll see where it goes from there. "Well… I met Duo during the war, not too long after I became involved. He was a fellow pilot. Our first meeting, he shot me."

"Shot you?"

"Yes. We didn't know we were on the same side at the time. I was going to shoot Relena Darlian because she knew too much. He wanted to stop me."

"I see."

"Well… he stopped me, obviously," I add a bit more defensively than I want.

"I can tell."

I ignore this comment.

"So what kind of person is he?" Reed finally asks.

"He's… quite different from me."

"Different, you say?"

I sigh irritably. "He's—well, he's loud. Obnoxious. Pigheaded. Impulsive. Friendly with just about anyone." I frown slightly, picturing Duo in my mind. "He could be wild and crazy one day and completely subdued the next. He was unpredictable. It was frustrating but… I guess I kind of liked it that way."

I liked how Duo could say whatever was on his mind and he still wouldn't offend (unless he meant to do so). I liked how he could hold his own in a fight, whether against me or one of our friends or an enemy. I liked how he challenged my way of thinking, my levels of comfort, my security. Of course, I didn't like it either _because_ he was challenging my thinking, comfort, and security. It was a constant struggle between being irritated and excited with him. I like being in control of my situation and yet with him I rarely had any idea of where I was going.

"What sort of relationship would you say the two of you had?"

"Um. Volatile, I guess."

When Reed questions what I mean, I begin to explain the nature of our relationship as best I can. It's a difficult thing to do. I'd never given it any thought before. We were… frustrated and angry, moody and clingy. Destructive, maybe. Starved for the other's attention. Or I was, at least. I think.

There was sex and it was amazing, but… we could only communicate what we felt during the extreme, through sex or fighting or the moments where our memories drove us to the brink. Neither of us seemed to be able to get through to the other on a deeper level. Maybe we were too afraid to try. I don't really know. I suppose it was… a sick way live, now that I look back on it.

"I guess… we both recognized that. It was a mutual decision to end it."

The doctor studies me for a moment. "What do you think of that decision now?"

I give him a suspicious look. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I asked. What do you think of it? Take a step back and examine how things turned out. Do you regret the decision or would you make that same decision again?"

"I don't regret the decision," I retort, annoyed that he'd question me in such a way. As if I regularly make decisions without thinking. "And I would make it again because it was for the best for both of us."

"So you ended on good terms?"

I shrug. I don't have any hard feelings regarding it. Whether Duo does, I can't say. It didn't seem like he did.

"And how would you say you feel about him in particular, right now?"

"I…" I fall silent, staring at Reed.

He waits for me to respond. When I don't, he asks: "Is this your first time thinking about it?"

I frown. Yes it is… And the thought that first jumped into my head surprises me. I miss him. A lot, despite the instability. I haven't seen him in nearly a year. In just a split second of realizing that, I want to see him again.

His next question is about the last time I saw Duo. Again, I wonder if the man can read minds. I don't normally believe in such things, but his questions lead me to consider it.

"Maybe a few days after the funeral."

"Explain this to me."

I heave a great sigh, glancing around for a clock that might be moving faster than my watch. There isn't a single one in sight. I don't like thinking about this. It's uncomfortable and unpleasant.

"Heero?"

Sighing again, I plow on. "A year ago, next month, two of our friends—they—they died." Were murdered, if you ask me, but no evidence could be found though motive was plain to see. We were the notorious Gundam pilots. Every once in a while I still get hateful letters from disgruntled soldiers and civilians. "We went to the funeral. A few days later, we came to the realization that we weren't good for each other at this point in our lives. I haven't seen him since."

"And you want to?"

I glare at him. Did I stutter? Is he selectively deaf? I said I wanted to just minutes before, didn't I?

Reed cocks his head and gives me a penetrating stare. "So what is stopping you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Of Heaven and Hell**

_AN: Small change to chapter 1: anonymous reader Deb pointed out that Heero's weight was vastly unhealthy (thank you!). I blame the fact that I'm a terrible judge of weight and I used the BMI to figure it out. But it's been changed, so hopefully it's a bit better!_

**Chapter 2:**

What's stopping me?

Out of all that Dr. Reed said to me during my first 'session' with him, that phrase stands out the most in my mind as I drive home. What _is _stopping me from seeing Duo?

It's not that I can't find him. Granted, I don't know where he lives now, but I do know it's no more than an hour's drive from here. Even if, for some reason, he lived further than that, I'd have very little trouble. Finding that which wants to remain (or just simply _is_) hidden has always been my forte, after all.

So… why? Reed pointed out that I might be afraid of finding him. I had to quell the very strong urge to break his neck. Whether I feel fear or not (and I _am_ human, so I _do_ feel it… despite popular opinion), I there is no way I would _admit_ those fears to anyone. Knowledge of your fears gives your enemy tools to use against you. And I don't like others doing it for me.

While I resisted the neck-breaking urge, he went on to explain that I didn't know whether Duo even _wanted _to see me. Maybe he moved on with his life. Without me. That, he said, can be a very strong deterrent.

Maybe he's right.

Duo's a vibrant, social individual. He's not the sort to be alone. Nor wait for an idiot to come to his senses.

I swear under my breath as I crawl through traffic. I hate making mistakes even more than I hate admitting my fears. It was a mistake to wait this long to seek Duo out. It was even more of a mistake that this psychiatrist—this man who doesn't even _know _me—had to point it out to prompt me to even think about it.

Unfortunately, that won't change anything. Mistakes have been made. Now all I can do is act. The easiest way to find Duo is to call an old friend of his.

When we agreed to go our separate ways, we cut off most communication with each other. It was just better that way. Because of our friends' deaths, however, we decided that, should we ever need to pass a message or get in touch with the other, we would establish a mutual contact. This contact would know of our whereabouts, how to get in touch with the other, etc… It's unsettling knowing that someone is keeping tabs on me, but I accept it because I know it's important.

It irks me that I haven't been updated on Duo's situation in such a long time. Certainly, if it was dire, I'd be told immediately. That being the case, I know shouldn't worry. But I still don't like it. I used to know everything.

As I pull up to the house, I notice that Chang has not yet returned from the dojo. I'm annoyed. I was hoping he would be around to talk some sense into me. Remind me that I'm making too big a deal over something an overpaid shrink said simply because I can't trust myself. That I am a fool for worrying so much.

Toeing my shoes off at the door, I enter the house taking a quick check through each room to make sure all is clear before I settle down on the old and worn sofa, phone in hand. Drawing in a deep breath, I turn the phone on and press one. Yes, I have our contact on speed-dial. If I need to get a hold of Duo in an emergency, it has to be fast. Obviously.

The phone is answered on the third ring. I frown in irritation. Not fast enough.

"Hilde," I say after she says a cheery 'hello!'

There is silence on the other end for several seconds before she says, "Heero?" Another pause. "Um, hi. Wow. This is rare. Is—is something wrong?"

Needless to say, we are like complete strangers. The only reason I really know her at all is because of Duo. "No. Nothing is wrong."

"Oh. Okay. Well, that's good. So… um… how can I help you?"

"I want to talk to Duo."

There is silence once more so I wait for her response. After a full thirty seconds, she says, "Um… The two of you decided you didn't want to talk to one another anymore."

"Yes."

"That's why you established me as your contact."

"I know."

"For your own good."

I sigh wearily. "Yes."

"You aren't well. Neither of you are."

"I know!"

"Don't yell at me!"

"I'm not yelling!" I stop to take a deep breath because I realize I am, indeed, yelling.

"Heero, I know you two loved each other but… what you had wasn't healthy. And I was so relieved when, subconsciously or not, the two of you saw that. I care about Duo and I understand what you two felt but…I just… Listen, I don't want you two to hurt each other anymore."

I'm silent for a long time, processing what she said. Hilde is a good person. She is. She understands the job we've entrusted her with and she's doing her best to protect us both from each other. From ourselves.

"Heero?"

Wedging myself into the corner of the couch, I pinch the bridge of my nose, exasperated, depressed, and content at once. Right now I wish we would've picked someone who could care less what we'd originally asked for. "Could you just… tell me how he is? Is he doing well?"

"I…" She sighs. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you 'don't know'?"

"Well… last I heard he was doing all right. Not great, but hanging in there."

"When was that?"

"A few months ago, I don't remember exactly."

"A few months?!" I explode.

"I said don't yell at me!"

"Why haven't you heard from him more recently than that? Could you not have _called _him?!"

"_You _don't contact me any more frequently!" she yelps. "And I'm sure you don't expect me to call you for a report! Well, I'm sorry if I didn't realize I was supposed to keep you both under constant surveillance! I have my own life and my own problems, Heero! I can't always-"

"Just give me his number!"

"Stop yelling at me or I'm hanging up!"

I stop to take a second deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose once again in frustration. I try to rein in my temper. This is the reason why I'm seeing Dr. Reed.

"Anyway," she continues when she seems to feel I've calmed down. "I don't have his number-"

"You don't?" I grind out. The attempt to control myself is failing miserably.

"Not exactly. The last time I heard from him, he said his phone was being disconnected. I guess I can give you the number I last had, but I obviously can't guarantee it will work."

Quietly, I groan, letting my eyes fall shut. Is this a sign that I should give up? Or a sign that Duo is in trouble? I choose the latter because I do _not_ give up. Ever. Getting to my feet, I head for the kitchen, grabbing a sticky note off its dull, yellow pad. "What's the number?" I scribble down the digits and then, for good measure, ask for his last known address as well. Even if his number was disconnected, he should still be at the same address. We are supposed to let Hilde know if we move.

"Heero, I don't know if-"

"Just give it to me."

"Ex_cuse_ me? You two put me in charge of your well-being _with _the direct order that you weren't to see each other again unless there was an emergency-"

"Do you know there isn't an emergency? You don't."

The phone crackles with static from her sigh. "Heero, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I want to see him. I—I need to see him." My voice sounds dry and cracked. I swallow hard in an attempt to remedy the situation.

Her silence lasts nearly a minute, and it feels like an eternity.

"If you deny my request, you know I will find him anyway."

"Heero, I didn't say I was going to deny anything, but I very well might if you keep up with that creepy talk."

"Why is it creepy? It's true."

"It's creepy. Just trust me on this." Hilde is silent for a long time yet again.

And I wait. Maybe she doesn't trust me. I suppose I wouldn't trust me either. Part of me is still wondering why I'm chasing after this so ardently. Why am I so stuck on the idea of seeing Duo?

"All right," she finally says. "I'll give you the address." And she does. I write it down and repeat it to make sure I have it right. "Yes. Listen, Heero… could you call me when you find out how he is?"  
"I will." I pause, then add gruffly: "And thanks."

"Just don't make me regret it, Heero."

I hum to acknowledge that I understand and I hang up. It's not like I can promise anything. There are many things that could go wrong. I would be a fool to think otherwise.

I glance down at the sticky note in my hand. The numbers and letters are strung together for one meaning only. This is it. Taking a deep breath, I put the handset back in its cradle. I'm not going to bother calling him. If he had his number disconnected, he would've contacted her when it was reconnected. Grabbing my keys, I head out the door.

I hope that _I_ do not regret this.

--

According to the map in my car, Duo lives forty-five minutes from the house Chang and I share—assuming traffic is light and I don't have to take back roads. Fortunately, rush-hour is over and I am able to stay on the highway with no problem. It still takes forty-eight minutes.

This town is rundown, a bit bleak. Not violence plagued, exactly, not yet. But it's not the place Duo said he wanted to live once the war was over. My place isn't necessarily much better, but there is green—a lawn, a tree, a couple of out-of-control bushes I've lost the battle against.

I turn left on a street lined with apartment complexes. Duo's is the fifth one on the right, two blocks down. I pull into a parking lot that needs repaving, get out of the car, look around. The building is three stories tall and dingy from smog and the elements. Damp trails of mildew creep up the side and bits of weeds stubbornly grow out of a couple cracks in the brick. I scan the cars in the lot. Well… there's Duo's car, parked crookedly in a spot about ten spaces to the right of mine. He lives here.

I frown, crossing the lot.

The glass door to enter the complex is spotty with hard water and fingerprints. I'm surprised it doesn't creak on its rusty hinges. It _does_ stick, however, and I have to tug it a bit forcefully to open it all the way. I didn't expect much coming into the building so I am not at all surprised to find it is just as dank inside as it is out. What windows the lobby has are spotty like the front entrance. The emergency exit light over the back door flickers pathetically. Directly to the right and left of the entrance is a pair of staircases set behind swinging doors.

A tall, surprisingly muscular man comes out from a back office in a gray shirt and mud colored jeans. "Can I help you?" he grumbles, sizing me up. I think he thinks he can take me on. A possible threat?

"No," I say calmly, quickly assessing the situation. Yes, yes I can disable him if I must. He's the sort that has more visual strength than actual strength. Fortunately for him, he doesn't try to stop me.

Picking the staircase on the right, I head up. The steps are slightly sticky and the hall in which they are enclosed smells like urine. Cat, most likely.

According to Hilde, Duo lives in apartment 318, so I climb way up to the third floor and exit into the hall. The walls, an unattractive shade of pale green, are grimy from years of being touched, masked only slightly by the fact that the only light comes in from the single window at the end of the hall, and it's early evening light at that. I walk.

A couple in 301 is arguing (potential danger) and there is a screaming child in 310 (annoying). The pungent smell of pot seeps out from the door of 311 (too strung out to care). Some of the rooms are silent (empty, or an even greater threat). And there, wedged between apartment 316 and 320, is Duo's.

I study the door for a moment. It's silent inside. I knock. No response. I knock again. No response. Perhaps he's at work. But he wouldn't leave his car behind, would he? Unless his place of employment is within walking distance. Plausible.

The door to 320 opens. A small, blond head pokes out. A little girl, maybe seven years old. She blinks owlishly, staring at me. I frown at her and knock again.

"He won't answer."

"What?"

"He won't answer."

"He's home?"

"Prob'ly." She digs her finger in her nose

I grimace. "You know him."

She shrugs.

I glance at Duo's door again. "And you think he's home?"

"Prob'ly," she repeats. "He only comes out t' buy beer. But he brang me a doll once." She holds up a ratty, well-loved doll.

"Brought."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"Maya! Don't talk to strangers!" a worried voice shouts from within 320 and the girl disappears back into the apartment.

My frown deepens. I rap my knuckle on the door a final time. Maybe he just doesn't answer to strangers. "Duo?" I say, wondering if he'd remember my voice.

Nothing.

Reaching down, I test the door knob. Locked. Not for long. I twist the knob harder until it breaks into its separate components in my hand. I hear the inside knob thump to the ground on the other side of the door. I shake my head. That's unsafe. They need stronger stuff if they want to keep people out. Slowly, carefully, I push the door open. "Duo?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Of Heaven and Hell**

**Chapter 3:**

I'm hit with a wave of stink—dirty body, garbage, the sour smells of old alcohol and what I think might be vomit. The rancid air is warm and stale, as if the room hasn't seen an open window in months, if not years. The room is darker than the hall, with curtains half-drawn over the window that is cloudy and, yes, closed. Garbage and dirty clothes are strewn over the floor. Cautiously, I pick my way through the mess. Something crunches under my foot. It might be a roach. I grimace.

On the right, a quiet murmur attracts my attention. I see that the television is on, broadcasting the evening news. I also see a pair of legs dangling over one end of a dingy, worn chair in front of it, surrounded by empty bottles and cans of beer. A long, ratty trail of hair is flipped over the opposite arm of the chair.

"Duo?"

I circle around in front of the chair. There he is, awkwardly wedged in the corner of the chair; mouth hanging slightly open, and a lot thinner than I remembered. I grab his wrist and feel a pulse. I let out an anxious breath I didn't realize I was holding. Alive. Asleep or passed out, yes. But definitely alive. His body reeks of dirt and body odor and the state of his clothes tells me he's worn them at least week, perhaps longer.

"Duo." No response. "Duo." Grimacing, I shake his shoulder. "Wake up." Nothing. "_Duo!_" I slap him across the face. Not for the intent to hurt, but to wake him up.

He sputters and his arms flail out—he punches me. I wince, massaging my jaw. That will leave a mark.

"Huh? Who'zere?" he slurs. He sounds confused. Then he slumps a little further in his chair.

"It's me." Grabbing a fistful of his horribly grimy hair, I pull his face up so he can look at me and I'm hit with a breath that reeks of vomit and alcohol. I resist the urge to pinch my nose against the smell as I look him over. His eyes are bloodshot and a little glassy, so I'm surprised when he slurs "'ro?" Then his eyes flutter shut again.

I slap him a second time. "Stay awake!" He snorts in surprise and opens his eyes, staring blearily at me.

"'ro?"

"Yes, we've established that," I say impatiently. "What happened here?"

His head flops to the left, then the right. Taking in his surroundings, I guess. "Dunno," he finally says. His hand flops listlessly in my direction. "Gimme 'nother beer, wouldja?"

That makes my decision right there. "Let's go." I grab his arms.

"Where?" he whines, sagging back in his chair like dead weight.

"You're coming home with me." I move to pick him up but he kicks and flails like a petulant child. I duck the limbs the best I can, but he still catches me over the head. I stop to blink pinpoints of black out of my eyes.

"I can walk!" He clumsily bats me aside and pushes himself to his feet. I have to lunge forward to catch him before he crashes to the ground.

"You can walk, hmm?"

He makes a pathetic, whining sound and slumps in my arms. It makes me grateful I don't have children.

Pushing him back into his chair, I tell him to stay put. I don't really expect he'll go anywhere, judging by the state he's in. I do a quick check of his apartment, searching for any salvageable items to take with me. I pocket his gun and his knife set (both for which he would flay me alive if I forgot), but there is nothing else worth grabbing. It's remarkable how clean they still are. I wonder about it as I check the gun for bullets. Still loaded. Good.

I return to the living area. Duo is still in that nasty chair, as I expected. Ignoring his stink, I put his arm around my shoulders and grab him round the middle, hoisting him upright. He groans right in my face and I grimace. "Don't breathe on me," I tell him.

He mumbles something I don't catch and, with that, I half-drag him out the broken door. The stairs will prove tricky to navigate, but this building doesn't have the convenience of an elevator. Ridiculous, in this day and age. If that little girl was right, and Duo only emerged to buy beer, it's a wonder he didn't break his neck. He's falling down drunk right now and I imagine this is a regular occurrence for him.

Down the stairs we go, negotiating each step with ridiculous care. Duo is little help, muttering incoherent things every time he jolts down a step or two. I have half a mind to tie him up and roll him down the stairs.

We emerge from the staircase nearly half an hour later. I am seriously irritated as I haul Duo towards the door.

"Now wait a minute, where're you going with that troublemaker?" The tall, muscular man I've come to realize is the landlord marches towards me.

His question annoys me further. I think what I'm doing is pretty obvious. "I am removing him from the premises."

"No way." He jabs me sharply on the shoulder with a beefy finger. I give him a warning growl. He's lucky I don't break that finger outright. "Punk's overdue on his rent and if he's not coming back, there's an early severance charge! He signed a contract and everything."

"People actually _pay_ to live here?" I mutter, glancing around again. The man is either charitable, unable to fix things up because he is paying for the entire building mostly by himself or he is robbing the tenants blind, pocketing the extra money. I lean towards the latter.

"Damn straight. Now pay up!"

It's definitely the latter.

He reaches out as if to grab me. Fool. I grab Duo's gun out of my back pocket and train it on the landlord. That stops him in his tracks and he pales considerably. "You might not be aware, but this _punk_ is a former Gundam pilot. As am I." I glare at him and he turns a little whiter. I don't like going around admitting such things, especially as a scare tactic. There are people who still resent us for what we did during the war. But I am mad as hell. This ass is not as tough as he thinks he is. He will _not _get in my way. "You can keep what's in his room to compensate for the rent and you are going to accept the fact that I won't shoot you between the eyes as your early severance payment."

The man takes step forward, apparently hoping to call my bluff. This _has_ to be some sort of joke.

I glare at him, cock the gun, and draw it level with his eyes. "Believe you me. If I shoot, I will not miss."

The landlord stops. Backs up a step. Then another. Good boy.

I don't let him out of my sights just yet. "If I hear a word of this from anyone, a single breath that we were even here, I'm coming back for you, got it?" I growl.

After a pause, he nods quickly. Not so tough now.

Lowering my arm, I slip the gun back into my pocket. Hoisting Duo further up, I walk him out of the building.

Duo grins lopsidedly. "Aw, man… You're a fuckin' bad-" Whatever I 'am' is lost (though I can guess, given his history of preferred vocabulary) as he gives an awkward hiccup. His body sways for the nearby trashcan. Only my catching him by the waistband of his dirty jeans keeps him from falling completely into the can as he throws up in it.

All that vomiting must take all his strength because he slithers to the concrete, unconscious again, when he's done.

"Idiot," I mutter with less venom then I could have. Crouching down, I scoop him up and heave him over my shoulder. As I carry him to my car, I try not to think about how much lighter he is than he used to be.

Approaching my car, I open the door and, with as much care as I can manage, considering he's not helping, I dump him onto the back seat. Despite the fact it's a chilly day, I crack the backseat windows open to air out his stink. Then I climb into the driver's seat, start the car, and pull away from the complex.

About fifteen minutes into the drive, I hear Duo groaning. I glance in the rearview mirror. He's awake.

"Cold…"

"If you think you're going to vomit, let me know. I'll pull over."  
"Heero?" he mumbles, sounding confused.

"Who did you think it was?"

"What'd you do, kidnap me?"

"Basically."

He snorts as if trying to laugh, then groans again. "Okay man, pull over. I'm gonna hurl."

Tires squealing, I jerk into the shoulder, ignoring the blaring horns from the angry drivers I nearly hit, and scramble out, hauling Duo out of the car just in time. I hold onto his ratty hair so he doesn't get vomit into the already grimy mass. His stomach seems empty, but his shoulders heave forward a couple of times in a painful-sounding dry heave. Then he spits and curls over his knees, fisting the dead grass and gasping for air.

"Better?"

"Getting there."

I pull him to his feet. "Let's get you home."

"Home? With… you?"

"Yes."

"Hilde will kill us."

"Duck," I say, pushing his head down so I can dump him back into the car. With a groan, he flops across the seat. "And she won't," I continue after I pull back onto the road. "She gave me your address."

He hums and falls silent. I glance in the rearview mirror again. His eyes are shut. Asleep again, I guess. I focus my gaze on the stretch of road ahead.

--

Chang must've just arrived home because he's slamming the door of his car shut as I drive up. He glances over and nods in curt greeting as I climb out.

"Lend me a hand," I say, opening the back door.

He obliges, swearing when he sees Duo. He gives me a stern look. "What's going on here?"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little while." I nudge Duo awake. "Come on, help me get him out."

"I can stand on my own," Duo grumbles groggily, pushing himself up to his elbows.

"No. You can't. Chang?"

He reaches into the car, wrinkling his nose at the horrible odor, but says nothing as the two of us pull him out. Duo's inability to walk is proven when he sinks on his legs as he tries to stand.

"Is he crippled?"

"No. Drunk."

"Not so much anymore…" Duo grumbles. He gives the two of us a pathetic glare. "Considering I puked it all up."

"Let's get him inside," Chang mutters.

I kick the car door shut and we do exactly that.

"Where do you want him?"

"Bathroom." First point of order: get Duo bathed. I don't know how long it's been since he has. I don't really _want_ to know. Between us, Duo makes a noise like a cranky child and his head drops onto my shoulder.

Upon entering the bathroom, we set him up on the edge of the tub.

"Still need my help?" Chang asks.

I shake my head. "Got it." I am somewhat an expert at removing Duo's clothing, regardless of the state he's in. "Wait." I hold up a hand to stop him and he pauses. "Go through my top drawer. Get me a pair of boxers and a t-shirt." There is no way I'm going to put Duo back in the foul things he's wearing now.

He nods, slipping from the bathroom. Duo droops listlessly against my side. I hold him tightly so he doesn't fall headfirst into the tub as I reach over him to turn on the water, tugging at the small lever on the faucet until the shower comes on. A bath would probably be more relaxing but the idea of him wallowing in the filth liable to come off his body is a revolting one.

He offers no resistance as I remove his clothing. I try not to notice his protruding ribcage, the ridges of his spine, instead focusing on the layer of grime covering his skin. When Chang returns with the T-shirt and boxers, he seems to understand my feeling that Duo's clothes will never be clean again. He gingerly grabs them on his way out to discard them. I hope he thinks to burn them.

I carefully lower Duo into the hot spray, letting him get drenched and hoping the water will loosen some of the grime while I scrounge for a couple of washcloths and a towel. When I turn back to him, he's motionless, still sitting the same way I put him into the tub. More like a doll than his normal self.

Frowning, concerned, I crouch next to him and squeeze some shampoo into my hands. In silence, I work it into his thick, long, filthy hair. He'll talk when he's ready. I wouldn't be surprised if he's feeling sick right now—he never talked much when he wasn't feeling well. And all that alcohol is not good for a body.

It takes a second handful of shampoo to get all of his hair lathered up. It's difficult work, washing his hair, and as I wash I realize it's longer than it used to be. By about six inches, I'd guess by the way it tangles at the bottom. Remarkable, considering how unhealthy he seems.

Duo sighs quietly, drawing his knees to his chest, tilting his head back to give me better access to his hair. He still doesn't say anything, but I can tell he likes it. I can still read his body language like I read a book.

Per the bottle's suggested instructions, I repeat the wash just to be sure the tangled mass is clean before moving on.

First task complete, I stand. The floor is drenched and so am I.

As the suds rinse from Duo's hair, I dig through the cabinet under the sink on a search for the bottle of conditioner he accidentally left behind when we split up.

There it is, behind a bottle of mouthwash.

I'll never understand why I didn't throw the conditioner out. I don't use it. Neither does Chang, as far as I'm aware. But I'm glad I didn't. Cracking it open, cleaning away the old crust, I repeat the procedure I used with the shampoo with the conditioner. And again, it's a long and laborious process. Unfortunately, no matter how much I work, the last six inches of hair won't untangle, even with the conditioner. Unless I intend to scalp him. It's strange. He used to take such pride in the upkeep of his hair.

"I'm going to have to cut some of this off," I finally say. I study him, searching for his reaction.

He simply nods. "All right," he finally croaks.

And so I search for a pair of scissors and return a minute later to hack off the offending nest of hair. The result is a length of hair just a bit shorter than it was the last time I saw him, probably the length it was when I first met him. Uneven, unfortunately, but haircutting is not my forte. The cut hair billows in the pooling water like a dark and murky jellyfish. Grimacing, I scoop the mess from the tub and toss it into the trashcan.

Sweeping his sodden hair over his shoulders, I lather up the two washcloths and hand him one. "Wash your lower half. I'll get the rest."

What has happened to him? Vigorously, I scrub his skin. How could he let this happen? How could _I?_ Why didn't I find him sooner? Why didn't I even _think_ about it? I'm such an idiot. Yes… we were a mess when we were together but it's clear we're even worse apart.

As I drag myself back to the present, I notice two things at once: one; Duo's not washing as I'd directed and, two; his skin is turning pink under my ministrations. I stop scrubbing before I rub his skin off.

"Sorry," I mutter gruffly. "If I hurt you, let me know."

He shook his head. "Doesn't hurt. It feels… good."

"Oh." Well, he needs it anyway. So I continue with the vigorous scrubbing. I trust that he'll tell me if I need to stop.

There's where he was shot during the war. Where he cut himself with his knife, trying to show off. I feel my face soften as I rediscover his scars and the rest of his body as I scrub. The back of his neck, over his shoulders, down his chest.

He makes a strange noise, grabs my arm. I glance down and his gaze meets mine. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright. I have the sudden strong desire to kiss him, but the fact that he has yet to brush his teeth after vomiting deters the action. Unfortunately, the desire remains. This is not surprising, considering what led to my actions today. Lifting his hand from my arm, I turn his hand over, kiss his wet palm, then his wrist. I can feel his pulse and it's heady. I really shouldn't do this right now…

"Finish washing up. The water will get cold soon," I say gruffly, turning away before I find myself satisfying my desires further without respect to his needs.

"Er… right," he finally croaks.

After I toss a spare towel onto the ground to soak up the water splashed onto the floor, Duo finally signals he's done washing up and I turn off the water. Taking his arm, I help him onto the edge of the tub and proceed to towel him dry. I take care in being methodical; focusing on the act of drying so I don't arouse either one of us again. First his body, then his hair. I dry his hair as much as I can because there is no hair dryer—neither Chang nor I need one—before I carefully brush out all the remaining snarls and braid it neatly down his back. I make a mental note to purchase a hair dryer.

Clean now, he looks so much healthier. It makes me feel a little bit better about kidnapping him from his filthy apartment.

Standing, I hastily dry myself off the best I can. Then I grab the shirt and boxers Chang brought in. "Arms up." He lifts his arms obediently and I wrestle the shirt onto him. His shoulders are broader than mine, so it's a snug fit in that area. I am relieved that that hasn't changed.

I hold out my arm to him. He grabs it, pulling himself to a shaky stand and, together, we manage to get the boxers on him. I make a second note to buy a smaller size in boxers and a larger shirt for him.

Opening the medicine cabinet, I grab a bottle of mouthwash and hand it over. "I don't have a spare toothbrush," I say by way of apology as he pours himself a capful and starts to rinse. Third note: pick up toothbrush.

He shrugs, wincing at the burn. I wait for him to spit the wash out before asking if he thinks he can walk now.

"I think so."

"Tired?"

He nods, and, leaning heavily on me, we head for the spare bedroom. I turn down the blankets and he crawls into bed, flopping tiredly onto the pillow. He then grabs the blankets and pulls them up to his chin. In seconds, he's fast asleep.

I sigh, watching him for a long moment. His face is still pale and his cheeks are slightly sunken in. The sight clenches my stomach. As I turn, flick off the light, close the door quietly behind me, I realize that our proverbial chatterbox had hardly said a word.


	4. Chapter 4

**Of Heaven and Hell**

_AN: Sorry for the wait! I haven't been feeling well. This should've been up sooner, considering this chapter has been complete for several weeks already… so forgive me!_

**Chapter 4:**

"So why is he here?" Chang asks as I enter the living room after changing into dry clothes. "I thought the two of you decided you were better off apart."

"Well. We're not."

"And this means what?"

"You saw what he looked like."

He grimaces. "Not to mention what he _smelled_ like."

With a nod, I describe the exact state I found him in and what the little girl told me. I leave out the part about threatening the landlord. It's not imperative to the story and I feel I can trust that man will keep his mouth shut.

"So is it safe to assume Maxwell's an alcoholic?"

I shrug. "There are a number of possibilities." For instance, I could've simply come at the wrong time. He could be suffering from another illness, maybe. Judging from the state of his apartment though, alcoholism is my strongest hunch. Maybe as a way to deal with… what? Life? Depression? History? I groan inwardly at the thought of what could be wrong. For a rare moment, I have no idea what I'm going to do. There is no way I can fix his potential emotional problems when I apparently can't even recognize my own... "Dump any alcohol we have, just in case."

He nods.

Heading into the kitchen, I grab the phone and call Hilde. I get the machine, so I leave a brief message—I found Duo, he's not well, and I plan to take very good care of him.

Leaving Chang with the instructions to check up on Duo in an hour or so, I grab my keys and head for the nearest department store. I believe I still remember what size of shoes he wears.

----

"Sir, we close in fifteen minutes."

These are the first words uttered to me as I walk into the store. I wrangle myself a basket because I can't stand to use the carts even when it's necessary—they're too noisy and unwieldy. I glance towards the ceiling, where colorful signs direct me to various departments in the store. If I start in the front left-hand corner in Health-and-Beauty-Aides and make a circle around to the pantry department, then to menswear and shoes, I can be at the checkout with five minutes to spare. If I take my time.

"Sir?"

I look at the woman at the service desk, decently dressed, probably the manager. "I heard you. Trust me, this won't take long."

She opens her mouth as if to retort, but I give her a pointed look and she snaps it shut again. I'm sure she's heard that line before. I'm sure those who said it took their time anyway. But she doesn't know me.

Setting a brisk pace, I head for the Health-and-Beauty-Aides department. It takes little effort to find Duo a toothbrush (red, medium bristles) and a package of disposable razors. Remembering my first mental note, I also grab an inexpensive hair dryer that looks like the one he used before. When he took care of himself. Shaking my head to clear it, I toss the box in my basket before I crush it.

Content with what I've selected, I swing around to the pantry department to and grab a box of Duo's favorite cereal, a gallon of milk, and a couple cans of instant soup—the only thing he's likely to keep down for the first day or two.

And from there, to menswear. I grab a couple packages of boxers in small, a package of white t-shirts in medium for the shoulder room alone, two pairs of jeans, and a couple of t-shirts that were on clearance, with stupid sayings that I know Duo would get a kick out of. I dump a package of socks into the basket along with the rest and make a quick stop in the shoe department to pick up a pair of black sneakers, size nine and a half.

I glance at my watch as I head up to the register. Seven minutes to spare. The woman at the service desk watches me pass, eying my basket in disbelief. I told her I would be quick.

With tax, my purchase comes to $155.58. That's a lot for me to spend at one time, but Duo needs it. So I hand the clerk cash (I don't trust credit cards or checks for that matter… too traceable) and within minutes, I'm on my way home again.

Chang is, unsurprisingly, still awake when I walk into the house. He's sitting on the sofa, leaning forward in his usual brooding manner with his chin resting atop laced fingers as he watches the news. He glances at me as I walk by with my purchases.

"He's still asleep," he says, answering my unasked question.

"That's good."

I put the food I bought away, place the clothes and shoes and personal products neatly on the table. I then return to the living room, taking the chair across from Chang.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, he asks, "What prompted you to seek him out?"

"I saw a therapist today."

"Therapy," he snorts. "You?" He gives me a skeptical look.

I nod. "It wasn't… easy."  
"No, I imagine not."

"Anyway… he asked all these… prying questions-"

"As therapists are known to do."

I glare at him.

He shrugs.

"And we got onto a discussion about Duo… He asked if I wanted to see him. I said yes. He asked what was stopping me… And well…" I gesture to the hallway.

He quirks a brow at me. I know. My actions surprised _me. _"What does Maxwell have to say about all this?" he finally asks.

"You saw him. You think he is capable of making that decision right now?"

He shrugs again, eyes sliding back to the newscaster as she recounts a morbid factory explosion on Colony L-2 "He probably won't be happy."

"I know." He never did like it when I made decisions for him. "I'll deal with that when we come to it. Which will be sooner rather than later, knowing Duo."

"Well. Good luck. You're going to need it."

I shrug. I will only make Duo stay until he's better. I can't force him to do anything once he's in top form. Well… technically, I _can_, but I don't like to exercise that ability against him.

After another twenty minutes, the news broadcast draws to a close and Chang excuses himself for bed. I turn off the following debate program and thumb through a shelf containing binders filled with hardcopies of old case reports I've completed while being with the Preventers. While it's probably strange (and quite possibly illegal) to do so, I find they're useful references, both for improving my own success rate and detecting patterns of copy-cat criminals. I don't always get access to all the resources I want at the base. Of course, being suspended from the Preventers, I have no actual _need_ to review the cases, no need to improve anything. But I'm not tired and I have little else to do. I read.

I have no idea when I fell asleep, but I find myself waking up to a quietly cracking floorboard. I move to grab my gun, grimacing when I realize I don't have it on me. What kind of fool am I to have gone to sleep without it near?! I realize that someone turned off the light near me and I'm further irritated that _that_ did not wake me.

Slowly, carefully, I push myself up and peer over the back of the sofa I was foolishly sleeping upon. Silhouetted against the early dawn light from the windows is a figure slowly shuffling in the general direction of the kitchen.

Silently, I ease off the sofa and slip up behind the intruder. I wrap one arm around the neck, placing my hand at the base of the chin, and the other arm around the shoulders to hold the body in place. "One wrong move and I'll break your neck," I growl.

And even before the intruder gasps a very startled "Heero!" I realize I'd made a mistake. There is the tell-tale ridge of braided hair between us.

I release Duo hastily. "You startled me…"

"I'll say," he replies hoarsely. I see him rub his neck.

"Sorry." I step back to give him some room. "I'm surprised you're up already."

"Me too. And could you not talk so loud?"

Considering I wasn't loud at all, I ask, "Hangover?"

"Shut up…" he grumbles.

"Sit down." I push him towards the table. "Do you want soup? Poached egg? Plain toast?" I flip on the light and he groans, hiding his face behind his hands.

"I didn't know you knew how to poach an egg." His fingers crack open just slightly and, though I can't see his eyes, I know he's watching me. "The last I recall you could barely boil water."

"I've picked up a few things." I don't have the patience for complex recipes, but I can make simple things.

He snorts and groans again, dropping his head onto the table top. "I'll take the soup, I guess" is his muffled reply.

As I set about making breakfast for the both of us (I'm up now, might as well start my day), Duo is once again uncharacteristically silent. Probably a result of his hangover. I take care not to be particularly noisy. Though he brought his condition on himself, I don't feel up to making things worse.

As I set the bowl of soup before him and take a seat across from him, he finally looks up from the table and starts to eat. I watch him for a minute or two before he pushes the bowl back and gives me what I assume is a stern look. The force behind it isn't very strong. "Heero, why am I here?"

"I brought you here, obviously."

He rolls his eyes. "I know that. But _why?_"

"I think that answer is obvious as well."

He glares at me.

I shrug. It _is._ "You weren't well. You were living in revolting conditions. I brought you here to get you back on your feet."

"Without my permission."

"You were in no state to permit or refuse anything."

"Goddammit Heero!" He smacks his hand on the table, winces. "Stop _doing_ this!"

"Doing what?"  
"Deciding that _you_ know what's best for me!"

I eye him skeptically and he squirms under the scrutiny. "So drinking yourself to oblivion in that garbage heap _is_ what's best for you?"

He doesn't quite meet my eyes then. "We decided we were better off apart. So now… what I do with my life is _my_ business, you know?" He pokes the spoon around in his bowl. "Just take me back to my apartment, would you?"

Now it's my turn to look away. "I can't."

"Why not?" His voice has an edge to it. I don't think he's as angry as he's trying to make himself sound. I think he's just annoyed.

"I… returned it to your landlord" is my careful response.

"You… returned…"

"Well, he was trying to stop me from leaving with you-"

"_Kidnapping_ me."

"-and I told him to take the apartment as your overdue rent. And threatened to shoot him between the eyes," I admit.

There is a snort. Then a choke. And Duo starts to laugh. It's not an entirely pleasant laugh, considering he mutters a quiet 'ouch' every now and then, grabbing his head. But it's not angry either. I think he'll forgive me.

"I think I remember that now…" he says as his laughter fades. "Damn, I wish I could remember the look on his face a little more clearly. The guy was an asshole."

"I could tell."

He gives me a genuine smile and it hits me how much I've missed that expression.

"So… you'll be staying then? Until you're better, at least."

"It's not like I have much of a choice."

I give him a stern look, to which he rolls his eyes in response.

"Yes, yes, yes. I'll stay." He cocks his head. "Why'd you come find me, anyway?"

I shrug. "I wanted to see you." I lace my fingers together in a tight grip. "I… missed you."

I watch as color flushes his pale face and it pleases me.

"Damn, Heero… If you're trying to get in my pants, you're heading down the right path."

"Maybe when you're feeling a little better."

"Damn tease," he mutters. He spoons out some broth. "When do you go in to work?"

"I'm… not."

"You're not?"

"No."

He arches a brow. "Why? It's not the weekend."

I frown hard. "I was suspended."

He snorts. And laughs again. "Dude, and you think _I_ needed help? At least I still have my job."

"I still have it!" I retort. "Well, sort of." I swat the air. "Anyway, how did you manage to keep your job if you were drunk all the time?"

"I got skills, baby. Mad skills." He grins when I roll my eyes. "So, what happened that resulted in your suspension?"

"I'd rather not discuss it."

"Come on, dude! You know I'm going to find out anyway. So why don't you save us both the agony of my nonstop nagging and just tell me already?"

I sigh irritably. "I knocked out a coworker."

"Knocked out or knocked _up?_"

I glare at him and he returns it with a mischievous expression. "Why would I knock up a coworker? I have no desire to spawn children."

Duo giggles. Yes. Giggles. "Spawn! Children!" He gasps for air.

I roll my eyes. "Knocked _out_, Duo. _Out_. You know I meant what I said."

He laughs. "Of course you knocked the poor sap out." He wipes a tear—real or imaginary, I don't know—from his eye and hums in satisfaction. "Some things never change."

I don't know whether he means this in a good or bad way and I don't know how to ask. So I don't. Instead, I shrug, finishing my own bowl of soup.

"So uh… when this hangover goes away, how about you and I…" His fingers tip lightly across the table and he gives me a suggestive leer.

"I told you… Maybe when you were better."

"Who died and made you boss?"

My only response is an exasperated sigh.

"Anyway, I don't see what my health has to do with something like-"

"Duo," I warn.

"-playing checkers."


	5. Chapter 5

**Of Heaven and Hell**

**Chapter 5:**

Despite Duo's insistence that he was ready for checkers (or anything _else_, should I prove persuasive—his words, not mine), he is fast asleep on the sofa within the hour. I sit on the chair across from him, alternately watching the morning news and him.

Chang gives me a strange look when he wakes to start his own day. "You're up."

Astute observation, Chang. "I'm normally awake at this time."

"Normally, yes. But considering your situation…"

From that angle I suppose his surprise makes sense. I gesture to the sofa. "He woke me up."

Chang glances over the edge of the furniture and takes a look. "I see. Typical Maxwell."

I nod. "There's soup on the stove if you want some," I point out, finally clearing our dishes from the table. Too busy bantering with Duo, then watching him sleep _and_ dwelling on our current situation, I haven't cleaned up yet.

Chang gives the contents of the pot a distasteful prod with a spoon. "Reheated chicken soup from a can for breakfast? I think I'll pass." Grabbing the coffee pot, he pours himself a cup, stirs in a spoonful of sugar, and takes a large swallow before glancing at me. "Now that you're out of a job, what are you going to do today?"

I glare at him. "I'm not 'out of a job'. I've been suspended. There is a difference. Get it right."

He shrugs, unconcerned. "Well, if you don't have anything to do except nursing Maxwell back to health, it's _your_ turn to work on the yard." His brow lifts. "Preferably _before _winter sets in."

"I'll do it if I get the time."

He gives me a skeptical look that I don't bother to dignify with a response. Grabbing his keys off the key rack, he glances at the sofa again. "Call me if there is a serious update on the situation," he mutters, jerking his thumb in Duo's direction.

I nod to signal I've heard and he heads out the door.

After checking to see that Duo is still fast asleep, I finish cleaning up our mess. The chicken soup is congealing in the pot, and I understand why Chang declined it for breakfast. I can only imagine what it's doing to my insides.

Dishes done, kitchen clean, I open the coat closet, don a sweatshirt and step into a pair of sneakers. If I have to work on the yard I might as well get it over with. I try to ignore the fact that I hate yard work so much.

The air has a bite to it, reminding anyone who could've forgotten that winter on its way. I don't mind it so much. Living in the colonies for most of my youth didn't give me much opportunity to observe weather as it ought to happen. It's boring when it rains every Friday at 16:00. The unpredictability of the weather here on Earth keeps me on my toes.

The grass is wet with dew and an early morning watering the sprinkler system provided. Not prime conditions for mowing, so I will save that for later. Unfortunately, there are still weeds that need pulling, leaves that need raking, and those damn bushes look like they haven't been trimmed in years. I worked on the damn things only a few months ago.

Heading for the garage, I grab the appropriate tools and a trash bag, then get to work. I tackle the weeds first. Damned irritating things, popping up whenever they please, how ever often they please, no matter what you do to kill them off… They remind me of OZ. I smirk to myself, at my little joke. Just like OZ.

"Well hey there, neighbor!" calls a voice off to my left, breaking my concentration nearly half an hour later.

I glance towards the voice and catch sight of my neighbor waving to me as he climbs into his car. I give him only the barest courtesy of a nod to acknowledge I've seen him. He's a perverted older man, divorced and hasn't taken any lovers since I've lived here. I can understand why. Before Duo had left, he had taken to making vulgar passes at him. I'm not sure if he knows Duo's a man. Either way, Duo thought it was funny, in a pathetic way. I simply found it irritating. As I watch the man drive away, I wonder why I didn't consider what it meant to bring Duo here again. With this, I'll be subjecting him to my awful neighbor again. I scowl. What was I thinking?

I guess that's the whole point. I _wasn't_ thinking. A rare moment for me. Rare and frustrating.

"Way to go, Yuy," I mutter to myself as I tear at a particularly stubborn weed, digging for its roots so it doesn't try to sprout again. "Letting your desires make the decisions."

"What's that about desires?"

I start and am irritated again that I've been caught off-guard—another rare moment. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals Duo, wrapped up in my Preventers jacket, wearing a pair of my sunglasses, grinning down at me like a jackal.

"You snuck up on me," I grumble. It's no real surprise that he managed it. Despite being one of the loudest people I know, his stalking skills are unrivaled.

"Ah, so you admit it."

"Yes."

"That's new." He squats next to me. I simply shrug in response. "So… what'cha doing?"

"Weeding. Why are you bundled up?"

"I'm _freezing._"

"Then why are you out here?" I give him a stern look. "You should be resting."

"Easy there, boy." He holds up his hands as if appeasing a dog. I roll my eyes. "I _was_ resting. Fast asleep and _everything. _Now I'm awake. And I'm _bored_." He drags out 'bored' so it's almost a whine.

"You can help, if you're feeling up to it."

"Of course I'm _up to it_. I'm not an _invalid._" Then I hear him chuckle. From the corner of my eye I see him eyeing the bushes. He turns to me and grins. "I see you're still losing the battle with the bushes."

I make a face at him.

He laughs again. "Hey, do you still have my scoreboard?"

"You were keeping track?"

"You didn't know?"

"Not really."

"Last I counted, it was Heero: three, bushes: eleven."

Scowling is the only retort I can offer. It's true, after all. He grins.

"Dude, why don't you just hire a landscaping service?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"I am going to defeat those bushes if it's the last thing I do."

He snickers. "Or you could just let them grow out like nature intended."

"No. I will defeat them."

He shakes his head, grinning broadly. He crouches next to me, closer than I'd let someone get if he wasn't Duo, and I relax under the familiarity of his presence. I glance at him. He's busy poking through the pile of weeds I have to my right. I smile. This is why I "kidnapped" him. I need to see him and touch him and smell him and hear him. I need him.

"I see you found the things I picked up." I gesture to the jeans and sneakers he's wearing—the ones I purchased last night.

"Yep. Not like you hid them any, sitting on the table like that." He shifts his weight and shakes his head. "I can't believe you remember my size."

"There is very little I forget," I say, a little more sharply than I intended. Of _course_ I wouldn't forget something like that. Even if I wanted to.

Duo shivers a little. "There is something very sexy about your vehemence."

"Is that a compliment?"

He laughs. "Unless you don't want it to be."

Reaching into the caddy between us, he pulls out a pair of old gardening gloves. He then pushes me aside and grasps the stubborn weed I'd been fighting with. With a growl, he yanks hard and pulls it out, though the effort sends him on his backside.

"Ow… my head," he whines.

"You're head? Duo, you fell on your-"

"Don't even comment! You know what I meant! Hangover, remember? The jolt from the fall went through my head. Duh."

"Right," I reply dryly. He makes a face at me. "Maybe you should sit this out then."

He groans. "I already _told_ you. I'm not an invalid. I can deal with a hangover." He jabs my arm with his fist. "I'm tough."

"All right then. You're tough. Now don't forget the roots, tough guy."

"Huh?"

"The roots. If you leave them, new weeds will sprout."

"So? Some weeds are nice looking."

I stare at him. He's absolutely mad. Weeds are a menace. I should know. I've pulled them often enough.

"Well, not this one!" He holds up the weedy monstrosity he liberated. "But the flowery ones. Like dandelions. And then, when they turn to dandy-puffs, you blow on 'em, which makes 'em fun too."

"You blow on them?"

"Well _yeah. _How else will your wishes come true?"

"And dandelion puffs grant wishes?"

Duo rolls his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Yuy. Didn't you learn any _kid_ stuff as a kid? You take the dandy-puff, make a wish, and blow on it so all the white puffy things-"

"Seeds."

"—blow away. And… then you wait for it to come true. The wish, I mean."

"You did this often as a child?"

He shrugs, yanking out another weed. I hear the sound of roots snapping. The thought of each of those roots waiting to sprout into new weeds makes me cringe. "Well, dandelions were pretty much the only flower that grew in L-2. So yeah."

After a moment of silence, pulling my own weeds, I finally ask, "What things did you wish for as a child?"

"Me? Hmm… well… I recall wishing a sexy mobile suit pilot would kidnap me and have his wicked way with me." He gives me a lewd once over. "Still waiting for the last part to come true, though."

"I told you that you had to wait."

"But I'm not _good _at waiting. I like my dessert first."

"The anticipation as a result of the wait makes it that much more enjoyable."

"No, because _then_ you are too full to enjoy it. So you're forced to pack it in a doggy bag and all you can do is hope it's just as good reheated—which it usually isn't. So dessert first."

I arch a brow at him. "Doggy bag? Reheat? Are we even talking about the same thing now?"

"_I _was talking about dessert. Warm, gooey hot fudge, drizzled everywhere. Licking it off-"

"Duo," I groan.

"—the spoon." He waggles his brows at me. "What were _you_ talking about?"

I shake my head, unable to hold back a grin. I'm not even going to bother with a reply, since he knows _exactly_ what we were _honestly_ talking about.

Duo gasps.

I give him a questioning glance.

"I completely forgot. You know how to smile!"

"Don't sound so surprised." I turn to grab a garbage bag to shovel the pulled weeds into.

"Oh, but I am."

"Get to pulling the weeds."

"Yes sir."

"Don't forget the roots."

"I won't."

"And-"

_SPLAT!_

Something cold and sticky runs sluggishly down the back of my neck. With a squawk of surprise, I fall backwards, grabbing at the substance. I look at my fingers. Mud. Beside me, Duo is pointing at me, laughing. The finger he points is covered in mud. It's not hard to put it together—though I would've known it was him even if I didn't see his fingers.

"_Priceless!_ That was—_gargh!_"

Can't speak around a mouthful of mud, can we?

"Oh, it's _on!_" he hollers between spits. Scooping up a handful of mud, he throws it at me.

Within minutes, we are covered in the slop. Letting out a sudden yell, Duo tackles me and grinds the back of my head into the dirt. I feel it caking into my hair and I grimace.

"Victory!" he crows, sitting square on me.

"I let you win," I grumble.

He grins down at me. "Aw, isn't that nice of you?"

"I thought so."

"Still… a win's a win. So I think I'll claim my prize." Leaning down, his mouth crushes against mine. I find myself getting reacquainted with his taste, even around the bitterness of the mud, the familiarity of his body melting against mine. Just as suddenly, he breaks the kiss with a gasp and grins down at me. "Hot _damn _I've wanted to do that since last night."

"Only since then?"

"Pretty much." He winks down at me.

Grabbing a handful of mud, I rub it in his face.

He yelps, tumbling off of me. "Okay, okay! I deserved that!"

I grunt in response. Damn straight.

"So does that mean no desert?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Of Heaven and Hell**

**Chapter 6:**

"Heero?"

"What?"

"Where's my car?"

"Hmm?"

"It just occurred to me that I didn't see it in the driveway. Or anywhere else, actually. Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"My _car._ You know, you really need to _listen_ when people talk to you."

I look up from the article I was reading in today's newspaper, from my seat at the table. "I was listening… erm… mostly." Duo shakes his head. "And it's still in the parking lot at your apartment complex. Well, assuming the landlord didn't have it towed."

Duo pops onto his knees and flings his arms over the back of the sofa he lounges upon, glaring at me. "And did you intend to just let it _stay_ there, hoping I wouldn't notice or something?"

"Like I would think such a thing. I'm no idiot. Of course you would notice. But, if you recall, you were wasted at the time. I simply found that, since I am merely human, I am physically incapable of driving two vehicles at once. I left it there."

He blinks in surprise, then makes a face at me. "Yeah, I guess," he grumbles and slides back down onto the cushions. "Well," he continues after a long minute of silence, "what are you waiting for? Let's get it."

"In that much of a hurry to leave?" I ask, folding up my paper and setting it aside. I won't stop him if he _wants_ to leave, but I don't want him to leave just the same.

"Maybe." Nonchalance. Hmm. I catch the glance he sneaks back at me. "Are you going to stop me?"

I can tell he's still a little mad that I denied his proposal that we shower together (instead of separately, as what eventually happened) after the 'fight' we had with the mud. I had to think of this logically. If I gave in to him, I would not have been able to hold back. I probably would have 'fucked his brains out', as he has put it on many occasions. I can admit it—it's physically impossible to resist the temptation when he's naked and soaking wet. I should know. I've tried. As a result, I would've hurt him. I don't want that.

"Maybe." I can play just as well as he can.

He stares at me momentarily, groans, and flings himself back across the sofa. "Can we just go _get_ it? I don't want to have to rely on you every time I need to go somewhere." Then, as an afterthought, he adds: "And I promise I won't run away."

I get to my feet and approach him. He sits up expectantly as I lean against the couch. "Duo, you know I'm not keeping you captive. If you want to run away, you can."

"Well there isn't much point. You'd find me anyway."

I tip my head in acknowledgment. "If I wanted to. Or if I had to."

He makes a face that is both obnoxious and endearing and grabs a hold of my hands. "I'm not going to 'run away'…you big dumb ox," he grumbles, climbing back onto his knees, facing me. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I know." Leaning forward, I kiss his forehead.

"Oi… you missed."

"I did?"

"My mouth is down here." He taps his lips.

"I'm quite familiar with your anatomy."

He grins.

"And, in case you weren't aware, I never miss."

"Goddamn, Heero. You are such an ass."

I finally grin in return. I enjoy how it feels to be back in the game. "Yes, I know." Leaning in, I kiss him on the mouth this time.

"Now let's go, shall we?" he murmurs against my mouth. The sensation tickles. And he's impatient as always. It's good to see some things haven't changed.

"Right." Stepping into the kitchen, I grab my keys off the key rack and follow him out the door.

The drive to Duo's former apartment complex is silent, save for the quiet murmur of the radio. With him wearing my sunglasses once more, it's hard to tell whether he's asleep or not. But I am okay with that. He needs the rest anyway, coming down off that alcoholic binge. I should ask how long he'd been drinking…

Probably fifteen minutes away from the complex, I notice great, billowing clouds of black smoke coming from the general direction of Duo's neighborhood. As if on cue, a fire truck comes up behind me, sirens screaming. I frown hard, pulling over. I don't like this at all.

"Looks like someone forgot to turn off their space heater," Duo grumbles beside me. It appears he is awake.

"It's not cold enough for a space heater."

"Says you."

"Besides, it might not be a space heater," I point out, pulling back onto the highway.

"I'm just speculating."

As we approach the exit and the smoke grows thicker, I cast a sidelong glance towards Duo. "Are you sure you want to go now? Traffic will be heavy. Assuming they haven't blocked off your street. Or neighborhood."

He leans forward, regarding the smoke through the windshield. "You think it's in my neighborhood?"

"I'm just speculating."

"Hey, no stealing my phrases." He cocks his head to the side. "Oh, why not? It's not like a blockade has ever stopped us before."

True. But it's not the blockade that's a threat. I take the exit anyway because now or later, the results will be the same. Unpleasant memories are already starting to surface. I wonder if Duo is experiencing the same. If he is, he hides it surprisingly well.

As we approach the street, traffic does, as I predicted, thicken, and it's becoming increasingly evident that the fire is on Duo's block.

"Heero?"

I hum to acknowledge him, too concerned about the clouds of smoke to verbalize.

"I think…"

I wait for him to continue, though I'm sure I already know what it is he thinks. Because I'm thinking the same thing.

"I think it's my apartment building… that's on fire." He shakes his head. "I mean, don't get me wrong… I was already thinking it. When I saw the smoke. I just—I didn't want to say it because…"

"Saying it makes it real."

"Yes," he breathes. He's silent for a moment. "Pull over. Down the next street. Pull over."

As soon as traffic inches forward far enough, I turn right down the designated street and into the parking lot of a rundown grocery. The second I put the car in park, Duo clambers out. He rounds the car and grabs my arm the second I emerge, hauling me through an alleyway.

I don't like this. I feel like I need my gun. Something.

Duo kicks a large hole through the weathered wooden fence separating one alleyway from another and we climb through.

"Oh holy shit."

That phrase doesn't quite do the scene before us justice. Across the street, Duo's apartment building has all but vanished beneath smoke and flames. The haze of smoke burns my eyes and my nostrils. The cracking and popping of the flames and baking wood are remarkably loud. It gives me goose bumps. Just outside the fire's range, a crowd of nosy onlookers gather as firefighters, apparently giving up on the blaze for the moment, douse neighboring buildings in attempt to keep them from going up as well.

I scan the crowd. I don't know what most of the residents look like, but I do see the little girl I met last night. She's in the arms of a frazzled looking woman who must be her mother. That makes me feel a little better.

My attention drifts back to Duo when his hand finds mine. He holds it tightly, staring, entranced, at the fire. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek, and I can feel a couple drops trickle down my spine. And no wonder. Even from where we stand, the heat is intense.

On the right, somewhere deep in the fire, something literally explodes. I can tell from the sound and the sudden column of flame that shoots up. We have to jump back to avoid being hit by bits of flying debris.

"I'll bet that was my car," Duo says. I can tell he's trying to keep things light.

"You think?" Yes, I'm trying to do the same.

"Well, I don't really know. It's possible, don't you think?" His voice sounds tight. Several tense, silent seconds pass.

"Let's go."

"Okay."

We head back through the alley, ducking through the fence.

"I wonder if everyone got out all right," Duo murmurs.

"Did you recognize anyone?"

"As in the other residents?" He shrugs. "Well, I was drunk a lot of the time. I don't really remember anyone in particular. I didn't really go out of my way to introduce myself to my neighbors."

I hum. That's not really like him, but I don't blame him for it.

He laughs weakly. "I got lucky."

I glance at him. "How?"

"If you hadn't come for me last night…" He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and doesn't finish the statement. He doesn't have to. He was lucky. God, _I _was lucky. "How'd you know?"

"How did I know what?"

"Come on Heero, don't play dumb. How'd you know to come get me?"

"I didn't. I just wanted to see you."

"All of a sudden?"

I shake my head. "It's something I've wanted for a while."

"Okay, so what made you act yesterday when you could've done so any other day?"

I don't reply. I don't really want to tell him that it was because my _therapist_ asked me a question.

Duo stares at me for a moment before shrugging and climbing into the car. I inhale deeply, catching the scent of smoke and maybe something else. But perhaps that's just my imagination. Then I cast a final glance at the burning apartment complex and climb into the driver's seat.

"Know of any ways to get out of here via back roads?"

"What do you think was the first thing I found out when I moved in, Heero? I know them all." Of course. Like me, he's apparently unable to let go of old habits. "Turn left up ahead."

I do as instructed, leaving the fiery hell behind us, wishing I could do the same with the memories it brings up.

----

When we had arrived home, Duo took to his room for another nap. At least, that's what he said he was doing, and I didn't have the energy to challenge him. Besides, I don't need to worry about him getting drunk. Chang was thorough in his quest to rid the house of alcohol. Not even a bottle of vanilla remains.

I'm busy throwing together a basic dinner when Chang returns from work.

"One day with Maxwell in the house and you're already going domestic?" he jibes, carefully hooking his keys on the key rack just inside the kitchen door.

"Shut up, Chang."

He smirks. "Speaking of Maxwell… where is he?"

"Napping, or so he told me."

"Ah."

"If you're heading into the living room, turn on the news."

"Any reason in particular?"

"Duo's apartment complex was on fire this afternoon. I want to know what they think happened."

"A fire, huh?" Chang frowns. For a minute or so, he's silent in thought. "You don't think that it's related to…"

I frown as well. "It was something that occurred to me too."

He glares off in the distance, clearly as troubled by this as I am. "There were no suspects last time."

"No."

He mutters a curse, shaking his head.

"I know."

"Makes you wish you'd died in the war, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

He scowls. "What does Maxwell think about this?"

"Maxwell thinks that—phew! What is that _smell?!_"

Chang and I look up as Duo walks into the kitchen.

"That would be Yuy's cooking."

"Wufei! Long time no see!" Duo flings his arms around Chang's neck from behind and hangs on like a leech. Or maybe a sloth.

"Hello Maxwell."

"What, no 'welcome back' sex?"

I roll my eyes. Typical Duo. In a weird way I really missed this. As long as it's all talk, that is.

"And what the hell is that?" Chang asks.

"Exactly what it sounds like."

"Thank you for the offer, Maxwell, but I believe that's _Yuy's_ job."

"Yes, but he's being a stubborn _ass_ about it."

"Well, you _are_ insufferable. Now will you let me go? You're strangling me."

"Cranky as always, I see." Leaning in, he kisses Chang's cheek before releasing him. "Actually… I think you're crankier than usual…" He leans in, examining Chang's face. "What's up?"

Chang looks at me and I shrug. I always found it was better for me not to question Duo's observations.

With a sigh, he glances back at Duo. "Maxwell, we haven't seen each other in over a year. What makes you think I'm crankier than ever?" he demands.

"Well _obviously_ that's when you notice a change the most, isn't it? You don't notice someone's hair growing when you're with them everyday, but if you seem them after an extended separation, you'd really notice it then, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose."

"So what's eating you?"

"It's probably his kids," I offer when Chang doesn't answer. Cracking open the oven, I take a peek at the rice and chicken bake in the oven. It's not burning yet. I take that as a good sign.

"_WHAT?!_ _Kids?!_ Wufei has _kids?!_ Since _when?!_ And where are they? Did you get married and then divorced and I knew nothing about it? Or are they bastard children from—"

"Of course not! Students!" Chang snaps. "He meant my students. Not my _children_." He casts me a caustic glare. "You did this on purpose, Yuy."

"I suppose I did."

"Students, huh? I didn't think you could tolerate kids, man. I guess I've been out of the loop longer than I thought. What do you teach?"

"Martial arts."

"You would."

"And is there something wrong with instructing others in the culture of my people, Maxwell?"

"No, no, no. Jeez, don't get your panties in a twist." With a grin, Duo pushes himself up on the counter and starts kicking the lower cabinets with his heels. "So what's the problem? Snot-nosed brats not listening to you?"

"No. The children are fine, for the most part."

"Then what?"

"Duo… maybe you shouldn't-"

"Ooh! Wait. Is one of the moms hitting on you?" He gives him a sly, sideways glance.

The way Chang's jaw clenches is a dead give-away.

Duo laughs out loud. "Well aren't _you_ a lucky son-of-a-bitch!" He leans forward, grinning. "Is she hot?"

Chang squares his shoulders and lifts his chin. "I'll turn on the news, Yuy. Keep this brat occupied and out of my hair until dinner, would you?"

"Oh _yeah!_" Duo grins wickedly.

"And, _no_, I do _not_ mean sex in the kitchen! I don't want any mystery juices in my food!"

With that, he storms from the kitchen, leaving me to deal with Duo and his hysterical laughter.

"That Wufei… he cracks me up," he says with a satisfied hum as his laughter finally fades.

I lean on the counter next to him, taking his hand, stroking the back of it with my thumb. "Do you remember that one time the summer we first moved in—"

"_Ohh_ yeah… and dinner burned to a crisp. How could I forget? Quat yelled at us for an hour for being too horny and how we could've burned the house down and 'how did you not smell the food burning when you were fucking right there on the floor'!"

"I don't believe he said fucking."

"I'm editing it for storytelling purposes. Creative license, you know."

I shake my head. "We were horrible back then."

Duo grins down at me from his perch. "We can still be horrible. Right now if you want."

"You heard Chang. No sex in the kitchen."

He sighs and kicks the cabinets childishly. "Who made him boss, eh?"

"Well, he helps pay the rent and you don't," I point out.

"Details, details," he growls, waving his hand through the air.

"Why are you so horny today?"

"Well, how come _you're _not?"

"I can control it better."

He sticks his tongue out at me. "Well, I'm _human_ and I haven't been laid in who knows how long. And it doesn't hurt that you're so fucking _hot_, baby. Why wouldn't I be?"

Well, I guess if he puts it that way… Grabbing the front of his shirt, I pull him down for a kiss.

"Yuy, the fire coverage is on!" Chang shouts from the living room.

Duo growls loudly. "Bastard did that on purpose."

With a smirk, I drag him off the countertop. "Come on. I want to see this story."

We enter the living room as the camera switches between anchors.

"A fire in Clinton leaves many homeless today when an apartment complex in the 400-block went up in flames. The fire started around 2:00 this afternoon at Flatrock Apartments and took firefighters nearly two hours to extinguish. Investigators have not yet determined a cause."

The camera breaks away from the anchor to show us videos of eye-witness accounts, all of which are worthless. Duo's hand clenches mine tightly.

So there was nothing new. I didn't really expect any details so soon. Still, seeing the coverage solidifies the dark feeling in the hollow of my chest.

It was arson. I'd bet my life on it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Of Heaven and Hell**

**Chapter 7:**

It seems that every time I close my eyes I see flames, which makes falling asleep difficult. Not surprisingly they are flames from the past. Flames I didn't actually see with my own eyes, but felt the burn somewhere… deep inside. It sounds so poetic, but it's really not. It's just the truth. I thought I put this behind me, this crushing weight of loss. I'm not at all happy that it returned because of today's fire.

One year ago, Winner and Barton died in _that_ fire.

I can barely contain a derisive snort. Died? Don't make me laugh. Two men like them, skilled soldiers as paranoid as the rest of us… they wouldn't just _die_ in a fire.

I roll onto my side, staring through the dark in the direction of my closet door.

They were murdered, though 'the authorities' didn't believe it to be so. There wasn't proof. All they had to go on was arson and even that did nothing to help. There were no suspects, no clues pointing in even a general direction. Without evidence the case went cold. But Duo, Chang, and I knew the truth.

Chang worded it best when he said justice failed us when we needed her most. That was about the time he quit The Preventers. He said the "authorities" were as crooked as they came. Obviously, I stayed. Crooked or not, if we were going to learn the truth, it was best to have as much pull with those "authorities" as possible. And my access to classified records doesn't hurt.

Unfortunately, I still have yet to find anything. Whoever the perp, they covered their tracks well. I don't know who did it. I don't know _how _they did it. And now _this_ fire… I roll onto my back again, frowning. I know it was arson. I know it was an attempt on Duo's life. I know there's a connection to the fire last year. I just have to figure out what it means before I lose anyone else.

With this thought on my mind, I hear door open quietly. I still. An intruder. Because of the darkness in my room, I can't see very well. Just a vague outline. My breathing slows as I listen. _Shhff. Shhff._ Footsteps scuffing the floor. Whoever it is doesn't bother to hide their presence. Fool. Doesn't the intruder know he or she will die?

Without a sound, I slip my hand under my pillow and grab my gun. I know that under a pillow is no safe place for a loaded weapon, but, if I'm honest with myself, it makes me feel safe anyway.

My bed shifts. The intruder has climbed up. I growl threateningly. Releasing the safety, I press the barrel of the gun against the intruder's forehead.

"Jesus Christ, Heero! Put the damn gun away! I may have my kinks, but they aren't gun play."

With an exasperated breath, I lower the gun. "You are lucky I don't have a twitchy trigger finger, Duo," I growl.

"I'd be even luckier if you stopped trying to kill me every time I _breathe_." I hear the sarcasm in his voice. "Who else would it be besides me, hmm?"

I don't apologize. He knows it's a response too deeply engrained. He'd do the same in my position.

"What are you doing sneaking in here in the middle of the night?" I demand, setting the gun aside. I don't really know why I asked. I already know the reason. And he knows I know. The bed shifts again. Even through the blankets, I can feel his body heat. Dammit. Now I crave it.

"Well," he begins, playing along anyway as he crawls on top of me, "I realized that you're not the boss of me and no one can tell me what I'm ready for _except _me. So I'm here to get what I want and that's _you_, bucko."

"Duo-"

He cuts me off with a kiss. It's disguised as something chaste, as if I would even buythat innocent act. Not a chance. I can sense the hunger beneath it. Damn him. He's trying to make me _want_ him. He's doing a good job of it, too. I guess it makes sense since I kept thwarting his advances earlier today.

"Now, _what _were you going to say?" I can hear the smirk in his voice.

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," I growl, pulling him down for a second kiss.

"Sucks to be you."

I grunt to acknowledge his statement as I flip him onto his back. He falls willingly to the mattress, which is good because it means he doesn't really care who's on top tonight. It's good because I don't like to be topped. That's not a testament to how good he is at blowing my mind—he's very good. But I was (and still am) not very comfortable letting go of my self-control so completely. I haven't told Duo and I never intend to. Petty, I know, letting something so trivial bother me. But I submit when he wants me to because sometimes he needs the control. And I guess I need to unclench a little.

"Heero?"  
"Hmm?"

"Gonna fuck me anytime soon or will I have to do it myself?"

"That would be interesting."

"Har-har. You're a pistol. But I'm serious, man," Duo retorts, propping himself up on his elbows. "I'll leave you hanging if I have to. You know I will."

As if I would let him. "This would be a bit easier," I begin, tugging his boxers down his bony hips, "if I could see you better."

"I seem to remember-" And here he gasps deliciously, arching against me, "-you saying something about… being familiar with my anatomy. Shouldn't be… oh god_damn!... _too hard. To figure out. Where things are. Oh _fuck, _Heero! Don't stop doing that or I'll kill you."

I can't hold back a smirk. It's my turn to be pleased with myself. "I suppose I should've said if it would be more _enjoyable_ if I could see you."

"Pervert."

I hum against his skin, reacquainting myself with his heat, the headiness of his scent, old scars, and smooth skin. "I have my kinks."

"I know," he breathes. He presses a condom and a tube of personal lubricant into my hand.

"What makes you think I'd have given in?"

"As if there was any _doubt._ Anyway, there's nothing wrong with being prepared for anything."

"You sound smug."

"Just impatient."

"I get it, I get it."

I don the condom and take a swift moment to prep him with the lube, unable to do the job thoroughly because… maybe I'm a little impatient too. And then I drive into him hard and fast so there is no doubt about my intentions. Exactly as we like it. Duo shouts loud enough to possibly wake the dead, to definitely wake Chang. It used to embarrass him (Duo, that is) to be so vocal when Chang's room was just down the hall. I pointed out several times that he knew the risks that came with Duo and I living under the same roof and I didn't give a rat's ass if he had a problem with it. Inconsiderate of me, maybe, considering I'm not the only one paying the rent, but I'm not aiming for an award in thoughtfulness. Besides, I like to hear him.

I drop my head onto his shoulder, breathing deeply. Clean. Nice, compared to how he smelled when I found him. His ragged gasps are harsh in my ear. And _damn _it turns me on. Pleading and demanding in the same breath, he wants something more. There's no way I would deny him even if I could.

"To the… just… oh _god_ yes!"

His fingers dig into my arms, his legs wind around me, his hips match mine thrust for thrust. I won't be able to hold out much longer. The pressure is building. My muscles are screaming. Lunging forward in one final push, I come. Duo shouts a second later and coats our stomachs with hot, sticky seed. A breathless chuckle from him brings me down from the stratosphere and I realize that, during the orgasm, I bit his shoulder. I grimace. Am I an animal?

"I forgot you were a biter," he muses between breaths.

"Sorry," I mumble, withdrawing from his body. I guess I forgot too. I should be grateful I didn't break the skin. I don't think…

"Don't know what you're apologizing for. 'S hot."

I grunt as I discard the used condom. I wonder what is going through his head.

"Hey, I have my kinks," he says, reminding me of my previous statement. Snaking his hand behind my sweaty neck, he pulls me down and kisses me again. It's slow, content. Less pushy, I guess, now that he got what he wanted. He makes a pleased noise when I respond, wriggling closer to wrap his other arm around my neck.

"Mmm… yum," he murmurs when the kiss comes to its inevitable end.

"Happy now?" I slide off of him, letting my hand stay in contact with the warmth of his chest. I can feel his heart beating beneath my fingers.

"Deliriously. For now, anyway." I can hear the smirk in his voice. Grabbing my hand, his fingers twist around mine. "Good night, Heero."

"Good night."

----

I wake up so suddenly that it puts me on immediate edge, even as my consciousness struggles to catch up to my brain. Something's changed. Should I be concerned? Blindly, I grope the nightstand for my gun.

"Duo?" I hiss. And that's about when I wake fully because I realize that he's not next to me anymore. Oh, so that's what changed. I blink one, twice, and shake my head, frowning. The spot he where he slept is still a bit warm, so he hasn't been gone long. The room is silent, so he's not in here.

Maybe he went to the bathroom. I grind my teeth. It's stupid of me to overreact. The war is _over_.

Of course, maybe he isn't in the bathroom. It's quite possible he ran off. I _did_ drag him here without his consent. Dammit! After all I went through to get the bastard here, he's not skipping out on me without a fight!

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I get up, don my previously discarded boxers and a robe, and storm from my room. The hallway is dark, as is the living room at the end of it. But as I emerge from the hall, I notice the light is on in the kitchen. Someone is making a ridiculous amount of noise.

I step into the room to find Duo standing before the opened fridge, glaring murderously at its contents. "Something wrong?"

"What?" He looks up at me with a start. "Ah. No. Just… er… thirsty."

He's lying. "There's water. Milk. That sweet tea you like."

"Yeah…"

I fold my arms and lean against the wall. I can see him watching me from the corner of his eye as he hangs onto the fridge door. Finally, he straightens and slams the door shut.

"Goddammit Yuy, where's the booze?" he snarls. "You're Japanese, Chang is Chinese—there's gotta be some sake or something!"

"Chang threw out all the alcohol."

"_Why?_"

"Because I told him to."

Duo's eyes narrow. "Just what are you alluding to?"

I shrug. "I just answered your question, Duo." I could've said I thought he had a problem, which I'm sure he knows I think. But he doesn't like being told he has a problem and, with him in this mood, it would be like pouring gasoline onto a fire.

He groans. "I_ need_ it."

"Why?"

"I need something to numb my brain enough so I can get some goddamned sleep!" He fidgets impatiently, staring around the room like he might find a secret cache of beer. "Oh screw this." He stomps by me, hand outstretched and I realized almost too late that he's going for my car keys. I grab his wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," he snaps, reaching around me with his free hand quicker than I can act against to grab the keys.

"In my car?" I make a grab for the keys but he twists away.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be nice if you lent it to me, considering _mine_ was destroyed in that fire."

I glare at him. "I explained to you that I couldn't take the car with me."

That seems to irritate him more. "Well, you could've left me there! Ever thought of that, Einstein?!"

"Yes, and then you'd be dead!"

"So what?!"

I grind my teeth. Difficult little… Someone needs to slap some sense into him. So I do. And he punches me back across the face. Of course he'd retaliate. But I don't have to like it. I lick my lip and taste blood. Okay, now _that_ is it. I yank him towards me and wrap my arms around him in a tight hold, grappling for the keys. The struggle is silent, save for grunts of exertion and the jangle of my keys.

He elbows me in the stomach, hard, and I crack his head against the doorframe, mostly by accident. And he _still_ refuses to let go of the keys. What do I have to do, break his fingers?

Probably.

Grabbing his free hand, I pull back on his index finger. His face pales a little and his intense eyes dart over to meet mine.

"Drop the keys or I'm breaking this finger."

His eyes are full of fury. "You wouldn't."

I pull a little harder. He winces. "I would."

The muscles in his jaw tighten. He's still going to fight me? I jerk his finger back a little more… just a centimeter more and the digit will snap. Duo hisses through his teeth and the keys clatter to the floor. I release his hand immediately and grab the keys. Nothing's broken, though his hand will be sore in the morning.

When I straighten I see him eyeing Chang's keys. "Don't."

He snorts.

"Take Chang's car and I'll have the cops on you for grand theft auto."

"You wouldn't."

"Duo, I was about to break your finger, so don't say I won't. If you plan to drive like this, I _will_ stop you."

"What the hell is your _problem!?_"

I stare at him coolly. "You tell me."

He squares his shoulders and glares at me. "I think you're a power-tripping asshole!" He growls angrily. "Can't lend me a car? Fine, I'll walk! Or are you going to break my _legs_ next?"

"Fine. Walk. Get the hell out!"

He storms past me, ramming his shoulder into mine. I watch him head for the door, turn to flip me off, and storm out, slamming it with such force that a picture on the adjacent wall crashes to the ground.

"Damn," I mutter, striking the wall. A small crater is left by my fist, though I am unimpressed and not at all mollified. I guess that was the fight I was waiting for. "Fuck."


	8. Chapter 8

**Of Heaven and Hell**

_AN: Well... something strange keeps happening. Chapter 8 keeps disappearing. Hopefully this time it will be fixed._

**Chapter 8:**

Maybe I should have, but I didn't go after Duo. I can't help thinking about it though.

He wasn't really in the right frame of mind to be wandering around town at three in the morning. Granted, this neighborhood isn't particularly dangerous, but I wouldn't put it past him to be the source of any trouble that might occur. Of course, chasing after him might only make him angrier. I can never figure out the right course of action when this happens. I sigh. Chase? Don't chase? Whatever I choose will likely be wrong.

A walk in the crisp night air might cool his head. Absently, I remember that I didn't see any shoes on his feet when he left. So maybe he won't cool his head. But stomping down the street with no shoes on might direct his irritation at something besides me. Or the lack of booze. I'm still trying to figure out which _really_ set him off, though I'm betting on the latter.

With a groan, I push my hands through my tangled hair. Arguing with him wasn't what I had in mind when I brought him here. Looking at the way this turned out, it seems like a year apart didn't changes things as much as I thought. Or had hoped, anyway. I mean, I'm not such the optimist that I figured we would never fight but I certainly thought the peace would last longer than two days.

I rub my ears in irritation. It's so strange how I've already become used to the sound of him talking, moving, _living,_ after just a couple of days. The silence without him is surprisingly intense. It hurts my ears.

Groping blindly for the remote, I turn on the television and the sound of some late-night entertainment talk show drowns out my buzzing thoughts. Not what I want, but it will suffice. Pulling a worn throw off the back of the sofa, I wrap myself in it and lean on my elbow, staring at the program without paying attention to it.

I must've fallen asleep because I wake up to the sensation of the blanket being lifted. I crack an eye open just as Duo crawls beneath it. _How_ does he manage to sneak up on me? He curls up against me. His skin is cold. I glance at the digital readout on the stereo. 3:30 AM. On the television, a cheesy spokeswoman gushes about the wonders of some miracle foot cream.

"Oh, you're awake."

"Hello," I say through a yawn, drawing him closer.

Neither one of us apologizes. I don't know why he doesn't, but I've never been good with apologies. We've always ended up pretending nothing happened. Tonight is no different as Duo slides against me, resting his head on my chest. "Hello."

"You're cold."

"Yeah." He eases an icy arm around me.

"Better?"

"Mmm." Not an answer either way. I take it as 'somewhat'. "My feet're kinda raw, though."

"Wonder why."

"Assface," he grumbles, but there is no real malice behind it.

I shift myself a little further down the sofa, knowing full well it won't be a pleasant place to continue sleeping, especially now that I have a companion. I find that I don't really care. "Anything interesting happen?"

"I got stopped by a couple'a cops."

"For what?"

"Walking suspiciously around the neighborhood barefoot and in my bathrobe and boxers."

"I see." I try not to grin.

"Yeah, apparently some old insomniac cat lady saw me. Thought it was a little weird, you know? Anyway, I couldn't very well tell them I got in a fight with my boyfriend. They'd probably think I killed you, what with me walking around being all shady. So I just pretended like I'd been sleepwalking. I think I kinda freaked 'em out with my confused 'where am I?' routine. They dropped me off here without question, though."

I start to laugh.

He glares at me. "What are you laughing at? It's not that funny."

He's right. It's not serious or anything, but certainly not something worth being so amused by. And yet I can't stop laughing. My head falls back onto the arm of the sofa and I clutch at a stitch in my side. Duo huffs and grumbles and punches my shoulder as if that would shut me up.

I lift my head slightly to see him still glaring at me, but his lips are pursed hard against an oncoming smile. Pulling him toward me, I kiss him hard. Just what is it about him that drives me so crazy?

"Gonna fuck me again?" he murmurs against my mouth.

"Maybe."

"I promise I won't mind if you bite."

"That sounds tempting."

He grins and growls low in his throat. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"And the calluses practically _melt_ away!" the spokeswoman suddenly roars.

I jerk my head back in surprise and glare at the television. What the _hell_ was that?!

Duo glances at the television as well and, slumping against me, starts to laugh. The rumbling sensation runs through me as well. Despite my initial irritation, I feel an oncoming chuckle. Soon, the two of us are laughing ourselves sick.

Reaching blindly beneath me, I find the remote and turn the volume back down to an acceptable level. Duo groans when I turn the program off.

"Aww, Heero, baby. Want some foot cream?" he sniggers, wiping away a tear. "Your calluses will practically melt away!"

"I like my calluses, thank you." Wiggling out from beneath him, I stand and jerk my head towards the hallway. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

With a sigh, Duo drags himself to his feet. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Of course."

"Really?"

I glance at him, surprised at his surprise. "Yes. Why?"

He squints thoughtfully. "I don't know. I guess I just… Well, you wouldn't let me earlier," he finishes lamely. By his body language, I can tell it wasn't what he wanted to say. I'm not sure he even knew what he _did_ want to say.

"Come on." I lead the way down the hall, listening for his footsteps. I feel a surge of relief when I hear the quiet scuffs.

How did I give this up? Sure, we fought ridiculously—and still do, apparently. But his company… it feels… good. Right.

Of course, the more sensible side (or least sensible, depending on your point of view) wonders if we're just making the same mistake again. If it didn't work the first time, why should it work now? If we're just going to end up killing each other, then who cares about feeling 'good' and 'right'?

I'd certainly like to for once.

"Heero?" Duo says as he closes the door to my bedroom.

"Hmm?" I climb into bed and, silently, he joins me.

After a surprisingly lengthy pause, he hums. "Eh. Never mind. 'S not important." He pulls the blankets over the two of us. "Good night."

I push myself up onto my elbows. "No. What is it?"

He hums again and I hear a smirk in it. I feel him shift and kiss my throat. His index finger drags down my abdomen, hooking onto the waistband of my boxers. "So… gonna fuck me or what?"

I realize, of course, that he didn't answer my question—something I've always found incredibly annoying. I should hold him down and force the answer out of him… Growling, I pull him close and kiss him hard.

Next time.

----

"Morning," Chang says as I stagger out of the hallway.

I squint at him, half blinded by the brightness of the day. "Morning," I mumble.

"You woke up late."

Why should it matter? I grunt in acknowledgment, shuffling into the kitchen for _something_ to wake me up. Of _course _I woke up late. Duo kept me up through the remainder of the night or early morning, however you prefer to see it.

A pot of coffee has been prepped and looks tempting, so I grab a mug and pour myself some. After doctoring it with a spoonful of sugar and two of powdered creamer, I shuffle into the living room. Chang is busy reading a thick novel.

"I apologize if we woke you up last night," I say, taking a seat on the sofa.

"What?" He looks up from his book.

"Duo and I."

"Ah. No. I didn't hear a thing."

I eye him skeptically. Considering Duo is a screamer, I find the probability of Chang sleeping through the night unlikely.

"I used earplugs, Yuy. I _do_ learn through experience and experience tells me that when the two of you are in the house, if I hope for a full night's sleep, I'd best wear earplugs to bed."

I laugh a little, both surprised and amused. I suppose I should be embarrassed too, but I'm not. I haven't been embarrassed in a long time… if ever. "Well, I'm sorry about the noise."

He shrugs, returning to his book. "I'm used to it. Duo's always been loud."

I smile, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Though I didn't expect you to destroy the house."

I glance at him, though he doesn't look up from his book. I don't have the slightest idea what he's talking about and I tell him so.

"Broken picture by the door. Hole in the kitchen wall. I think your foreplay might've gotten out of hand."

I groan, dropping my head in my hand at his suggestion. "Not foreplay, Chang. We had a fight."

"Ah yes. Another good reason for the ear plugs."

I hum.

"So a fight, huh?" This time he spares me a glance. "Regretting your decision to bring him back?"

"No." I arch a brow. "Though I now get the impression you don't want him here."

Chang sighs. "Yuy, it's true I find him obnoxious sometimes, but I think that about even you. Seriously, though, he's an okay guy. I don't care whether he's here or in Guam." He returns to his book. "However, if the two of you are going to constantly bicker like before, I suggest the _both _of you head to Guam because I don't want to hear it."

"Well, as you mentioned, that's the reason you have earplugs."

He gives me a look over the top of his novel. "Har har."

I shrug, taking another sip of my coffee. I was serious.

With nothing better to do I reach for the newspaper sitting on the end table. By the looks of it, Chang's already perused it.

"No news on the fire."

I hum as I continue to unfold the pages. I figured it'd be too soon for anything anyway. "I should do my own investigation."

He looks at me over his book again. "You're forgetting one thing: you've been suspended. You don't have that kind of clearance."

"Well they don't have to know about it."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, I'm not bailing you out when you get arrested."

"If it comes to that I'll bail myself out."

He snorts. And then adds, after a long pause: "At least wait until the initial investigation is over."

"Everything will be gone."

"You're a former Gundam pilot, Yuy. And one of the best suspended Preventers on the force." I make a face that he ignores as he plows on. "If there's a clue to be found, you'll find it whether they've taken it away or not."

His gruff praise makes me feel awkward enough that I concede to his point only to get him to stop. I don't agree with the praise, though. If that was the case, I would've found the perp (or perps) that murdered Barton and Winner right after it happened and we wouldn't even need to have this discussion now.

So I sit there, thinking over Chang's objections. They make sense, however much I don't like them. Getting arrested won't do me any good employment-wise. Then again, I've never let the threat of getting arrested stop me.

Chang's easy "morning" alerts me to Duo's presence.

I see him round the sofa, sit, wince, and then yawn. "Morning, guys."

"I'd be polite and ask if you slept well, but, frankly, I don't need the details."

Duo laughs. "I can give them to you anyway, if you really _want _them."

"No."

"Blame Yuy. He just knows how to drive a guy wild."

"I blame the both of you."

"Just jealous 'cause you're not gettin' any," he drawls. He shifts his weight and glances at me. "Anything new? About the fire, I mean."

I shake my head. "Too soon."

He shrugs. "You never know." Reaching over me, he grabs my coffee mug and takes a sip. "We could always make our own investigation. I mean, I bet we're the only ones who think to connect it with that other fire."

"Chang already nixed the idea."

"What? Why?" He scoffs. "Killjoy."

"I would think that getting arrested would be a great enough deterrent," Chang mutters. "But I can see the two of you haven't changed a bit. You're exactly alike."

"The threat of getting arrested is half the thrill," Duo points out. "And what's wrong with being alike in that respect? I seem to recall _you_ were the same way. In fact…" He tilts his head thoughtfully. "I think it's pretty freaking weird that you're not jumping in on this too."

"I'm trying to leave that behind me, Maxwell. The past belongs in the past."

"Well, I'm just saying it's weird."

"Duo," I mutter warningly.

But he ignores me. "Seriously. You _were _the justice freak of us all. What happened?"

He glared irritably. Then he sighs. I know what's coming. I was there when it happened.

"This is what happened." He extends both his arms, palms up.

Duo winces again, this time from the sight. Two puckered, pink scars mar the otherwise smooth skin of his wrists.


	9. Chapter 9

**Of Heaven and Hell**

_AN: Oh holy _crap! _It's been nearly a year since I've updated this thing... I apologize to anyone who is still waiting for this! ... if there is anyone! -laughs- __So I will try the recap thing again: Previously, Heero visited a psychiatrist for work-related violence which led to him 'rescuing' Duo from a trash laden apartment (an apartment that later catches fire mysteriously-Quatre and Trowa have also died in a mysterious fire). Playfulness, sex, and a fight in which Heero nearly breaks Duo's fingers ensues. Morning comes (post sex/fight) during which Duo finds out that Wufei has some nasty scars on his wrists. _

**Chapter 9:**

"You… who did this?" Duo demands. He grabs Chang's right hand and holds it up as if we all somehow missed seeing the scars.

Chang gives him a look. "Who do you think, Maxwell?" Calmly, he yanks his hand from his grip.

"_You_ did this? What did you do, try to gnaw your hands off?"

"Of course I didn't try to _gnaw my hands off!_"

Duo jerks his head back and gives him a suspicious stare. I know what he's thinking before he says it. "Not suicide…"

"Why would you even think that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Your mutilated wrists, maybe?" he snarls.

Rolling his eyes, Chang shakes his head. "It wasn't suicide."

"Then what?"

"He was captured," I pipe in, because guessing games annoy the hell out of me. Chang groans.

Duo turns to me. "Captured?" One brow hikes up skeptically. "Wufei? You gotta be kidding me." He rounds on Chang. "By who? The war's over, you know."

He shrugs. "They got me unconscious before I even knew what was happening."

Duo blinks, mouth hanging open slightly. "But… not even when you woke up?"

"I was alone when I woke up."

"Seriously? They capture you and just _leave_ you somewhere? What is the point in that? Didn't they know you were a Gundam pilot? An escape like that is _cake._"

With a sigh, Chang explains: "Yes, I'm sure they knew who I was, which is why they left me unconscious in an abandoned building they set ablaze. I assume they expected me to remain unconscious, perhaps to suffocate and burn to death. When I came to, the fire had already engulfed most of the building. I had to break a window to saw apart the bindings—" he shows a scarred wrist, "and basically jump from there. I twisted an ankle and suffered a few minor burns and, naturally, these scars, but I was fine other than that."

Duo's face pales. "What the _fuck!_ Jesus _Christ…_" He laughs humorlessly. "Here he is making it sound like he's talking about the weather…" He looks at me. "Did _you_ know about this?"

I frown. "He contacted me shortly after he escaped. I picked him up and took him to the hospital. So, yes, I know." As simple as Chang made it sound, he was a mess when I had arrived. Limping down the street, blood soaked rags were wrapped around his wrists and he was covered in soot and a few burns. His eyes gave hint that _something_ had shut down within, though I didn't know what—and I still don't. Obviously, he doesn't like to talk about it so I've never brought it up.

"And you didn't bother to _tell_ me about it?"

I stop to remember why I hadn't told Duo. Well… we had recently separated at the time it happened, maybe just over a month prior. We weren't exactly at the stage where communication was open again. I explain this to him.

"Communication _didn't _really open again, if you hadn't noticed!" he growls. "You _still _could've said something later!"

True… though I refrain from pointing out that _he_ was the one who had his phone line disconnected. "I didn't feel it necessary to worry you."

He scowls and mutters something under his breath. I open my mouth to demand that he repeat himself, but Chang interrupts. For the better, since my command would probably incite mutiny.

"As you can see, Maxwell, I'm doing quite fine," he says, sounding exasperated with it all. I don't blame him. It wasn't his finest hour.

"Yeah, so you're alive. But they obviously know who you are. If they found you once, they could find you again. And who _knows _if that will lead them _here_," Duo rants, plunging his hands through his messy hair. "What if they were the same guys that took out Quat and Trowa?"

"We thought of that, obviously. And, just as obviously, we didn't find any evidence. If it assuages your fears any, I managed to erase all files of my existence that I could find."

"Yeah, and opened up a dojo, I know." He snorts and rolls his eyes. "Like a public _dojo_ is going to prevent psycho Gundam pilot killers from finding you!"

"Maxwell, they haven't sought me out since, so I believe they think I died in the fire. Une put a gag on the media to keep any details from escaping so they _would _think that."

"Guess that explains why I didn't hear about it," Duo mutters.

"And, of course, the erasures reinforce that idea." Chang sweeps his hand through the air as if wiping the comments away. "Anyway, I'm not _stupid._" Duo snorts derisively and, with surprising self control, Chang ignores it. "I didn't open the dojo under my own name. I don't do photo advertisements. I arrive and leave well disguised. And any student that comes to my dojo is subject to frequent background checks, as are their families. I have not forgotten how to watch my own back."

"Apparently you have if you got captured in the _first_ place."

"Do you have a death wish, Maxwell?" Chang snaps. I growl warningly in response. He returns it with a glare.

Duo glances at the two of us and, out of nowhere, smirks. "It's like listening to the start of a fight between two dogs… Do I have to get the collars and leashes? Or will a couple slabs of steak break it up?"

"Wouldn't food just incite dogs to fight more?" Chang asks.

Duo shrugs. "Maybe. I'm no dog expert. Though I bet you'd _really _need a bitch in heat for that."

"So does that make you the bitch in heat?"

"Aw, 'Fei, I didn't know you felt that way about me."

I start to laugh as Chang sputters out a "what? No! Where did you—no!" I have to admit that he walked into that one.

He glares at me, not as amused as I am. "Why don't you _do_ something about him?" he demands as I stop laughing.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Take control of him! You brought him here."  
"I'm not his master."

"Yes, well I'm sure if you grew a pair and took charge, he roll over and bare his belly to you-"

"Hey, hey, hey! Stop talking about me like I'm a dog!"

"Weren't you the bitch in heat?" Chang grumbles.

"Okay, seriously? Shut up." Duo shakes his head. "We have bigger things to worry about. Like how this asshole, or group of assholes, is probably going to come for _you_ next."

"I think I can defend myself against one or more of these 'assholes'," I point out.

"Yeah, I'm sure Wufei thought so too," he snaps in return. "_I_ thought so, and look at what they did to my apartment. Look what they might've done to me?" His voice has taken on a shrill quality.

"You're getting hysterical."

"_I'm not getting fucking hysterical!_"

I arch my brow at him. "Yes, you are."

He opens his mouth to retort, but something in him seems to calm, because his shoulders relax and he loses the wild look. I reach out in a gesture of ease that feels awkward to me, but he knocks my hand away with an annoyed look. "Heero, man, in case you haven't noticed… this is a really _big_ problem."

"Yes. I know. I _have_ noticed." Though _problem_ is too simple a term in my opinion. It's a threat, _bigger_ than a threat. One I know next to nothing about. I feel powerless. I don't like feeling powerless.

He gives me a skeptical look. "You are _way _too calm about this."

"No, I'm just better at controlling it," I reply. I reach for him again, and this time he lets me pull him over.

Chang snorts, picking up his book.

Duo glances at him briefly and nods. "I agree with him. You're not scared of anything and it's really creepy."

"Not true."

He snorts and leans against my chest. "Whatever you say, captain."

From behind his book, Chang actually woofs. Duo snarls wordlessly. I pinch the bridge of my nose. This dog thing is going to get out of control.

I watch Duo for a moment as he eyes Chang, waiting. To start a fight? "So what do you plan to do about your job?"

"My job?"

"Yes. The job you said you had because of your… what was it? Mad skills?"

He sighs and pushes further against me. "What do you mean what am I going to do about it?"

"Well… when do you work next? You'll need new clothes and a car, among other things."

He waves his hand. "Not a problem."

"What do you mean?" I ask, though I have a feeling I know where this is going.

"I'm a hacker, obviously. I don't need new clothes or a car, though both will be nice to have, because I can do the job from any computer."

"Right. And you get paid?"

"It's not like anyone notices when I take a little. I'm very thorough. Hell, I'm my very own Robin Hood."

I roll my eyes. "And how do you justify yourself, hmm?"

He shrugs. "I need to justify myself? Well, I could be doing worse. And, hey, I keep the security business… well… _in business_." He shifts. "Anyway, it's not just bank accounts. It's not even _mostly _bank accounts. I get information, too. Sell it to the highest, or loudest, bidder, depending on the situation… How else do you think we find out about some of the more shrewd black dealings of our charming politicians, eh?" he mutters, defensively. As if he thinks I'll judge him. I tell him that this is not the case, though I'm not sure he believes me.

Across from us, Chang snorts. I think it might be an attempt to keep from laughing.

"So, information broker, can you tell me who the firestarter is?" I ask, ignoring him.

Duo smirks. "Ah, that information is going to cost you. But don't worry. If you don't have cash, you can choose to pay with your body. Though interest is—_ahem_—high."

"Can't the two of you knock off the sex talk for even _five _minutes?" Chang snaps.

"Um, no. No, I don't think so. Sorry." The sarcasm is heavy in his voice.

I roll my eyes. "Don't be a smartass."

"Better'n a dumbass."

Touché.

"But honestly-"

"For fuck's sake, Maxwell! _Five minutes!_"

I barely manage to hold back a groan.

"-right now I'm most interested in the new car idea you had."

Of course he's only trying to get a rise out of Chang. And Chang took the bait—something it's obvious he's not happy with, if his clenched jaw is anything to go by. I glance at Duo, noting the malicious glee in his eyes.

"Let's find you a car."

He tears his sights off Chang to look at me. "Honestly?" His eyes narrow. "I thought you were too afraid I'd run off on you."

I shrug. I am… not that it will do me any good should he decide to leave. I could chase him and drag him back against his will. But that's not really conducive to what I want. I _want _to give this another try, this relationship. And I want him to think the same. I want to _make_ him think the same…

"You okay, Heero?" He looks concerned. His eyes search my face. I try to clear it of whatever he saw.

I shouldn't want to _make_ him do anything…

"Yes, I'm fine."


	10. Chapter 10

**Of Heaven and Hell**

_AN: I apologize for taking so long to update. I hope I still have readers left. A lot of difficult things have happened over the past year, including a couple I wouldn't wish on anyone. However, I made it my resolution to write more and I still promise to finish these stories!_

**Chapter 10:**

I lean back against one of the overpriced cars in the third lot of the day, simply enjoying watching Duo work.

As expected on this car lot (as had happened at the first two), the first available salesman made a beeline for 'fresh meat'. The salesman's name, this time, is Ben. Ben is lucky that I came into this knowing what encounters to expect or the man would be, at the very least, in severe pain for charging at us like this…

I think it's clear I don't need therapy to maintain my composure. I'm maintaining it just fine.

So the dealer charged for us. I can tell by his eyes that he is gauging how much he can sucker us into. Duo, still quite skinny, with luxurious long hair and a ready, sometimes idiotic smile on his face, looks like a sucker. It can't be helped. He just does. I, on the other hand, look very serious, quite possibly mean, and could therefore be a threat were I his source of information on cars. I notice when the man's eyes light up when Duo asks to see his first car and I take 'the back seat', as it were. He thinks he can sucker Duo into paying too much for what was essentially a piece of shit.

They all made the same mistake.

I'm barely able to contain my amusement as, an hour later, Duo has talked this salesman down from a pompous, overconfident ass to a squeaking, sweating mouse. Duo knows more about anything with a motor than anyone I've met. Perhaps me included. I almost feel sorry for the salesman.

Almost.

Duo's under the hood of his third car, firing off complicated questions that even an experienced mechanic would have difficulty answering. Things our fine salesman couldn't even pretend to answer. Things that make him grow paler by the second. Finally, Duo stands and slams the hood down, rounding to the driver's seat to turn the car off.

"Sorry man," he says, handing over the key. "If a seat warmer is the only perk you have to owning this car at _that_ price, I'm afraid you've lost me. A warm ass isn't really that essential, when you get down to it."

I make a noise in the back of my throat and he flashes me a grin.

"About a car, I mean."

We both ignore the strange look Ben gives us.

Duo claps his hands and rubs them together vigorously. "Well, thanks for the tour, Ben, but I'm afraid I'm going to keep looking. I'll keep you in mind, though. Just in case that seat warmer really… speaks to me."

"Right..." Ben says faintly.

With a smug look on his face, Duo crosses over to me and takes my hand. "C'mon, baby. There's one more place I'd like to check out." As we head back to my car, he looks back and waves at the salesman, flashing a cheery grin.

"If you're not careful, every car lot in the area is going to have a warning about you," I point out, unable to hold back a smirk.

"They _should_ be scared. Damned pre-assuming morons."

"Well, you do a fine job of putting them in their place. This last time was particularly satisfying to watch."

He smiles. "Yeah, well… it _is_ fun screwing with them." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and sighs. "But, y'know, it'd be nice to _find_ a decent car. One that runs, has working brakes, and, y'know, doesn't cost a shit-ton of money for the quality."

I look at him appraisingly. "Do you actually have anything in _mind?_"

He starts to shake his head, then pulls a grin. "Well now… I just thought of what I'd like…"

I gesture impatiently for him to get on with it.

"A hearse. I want a hearse."

I blink. "A what?"

"You heard me."

"I did, but I assumed I heard wrong. Why a hearse?"

"C'mon. What car would be better for a god of death, hmm? Driving the souls of the dead to the other side? Kinda poetic, eh?"

"'Kind of morbid' is more like it."

He shrugs. "Need to keep myself entertained somehow. Else I'll go mad."

It's better than the alcohol, I suppose. I keep that opinion to myself, though. No need to start another fight.

We climb into my car and, as I start the engine, I turn to Duo, brow arched. "All right, were you _serious_ about the hearse? Should I start taking you to funeral homes?" I wince at the sound of that, as does he. I'd rather avoid going to a funeral home, for _any_ reason.

"Er… no. No, I'd rather you didn't." He frowns, fidgeting.

I pull out of the parking spot and wait at the busy intersection for his next words. "So… you said you had another car in mind?"

He sighs in what sounds like both relief and exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Eh…"

"You don't have to find one today. If it takes time, it takes time."

He casts me a side long glance. "Why are you so worried? You worried I'll leave the second I get a car?"

I shrug. "Well, it was a lot of work getting you here…" I wince. Though true, I know I shouldn't have said it. It's not what I meant.

"You mean kidnapping me," he mutters.

I close my eyes briefly. So much for not starting another fight. I _really_ shouldn't have opened my mouth. "Duo."

He reaches over and squeezes my thigh. "I know, I know. That's just how you are."

I hum irritably under my breath. True though his comment may be I feel that it's not a satisfactory explanation.

"But, you know, I'm kinda tired of looking for cars right now. Let's do something else."

"Look, if you want to continue looking we can-" Behind us, a horn sounds. In the rearview mirror I see a woman throwing her hands up in exasperation. What, I'm not moving quickly enough?! Growling, I roll down my window and stick my head out.

"If you have a problem waiting, go around, bitch!" I snarl. I pull my head back in without waiting for a response. Then I take a moment to think about what I just did and I grimace, pulling out onto the street. That was completely uncalled for.

After a brief moment of silence, I spare a quick glance at Duo. He is staring at me with a look of stunned amusement. Then he starts to laugh. "Anger problems, indeed."

"Sorry," I mutter, taking a left onto the highway exit.

He laughs even harder, actually clutching at his stomach. "You! I _never _thought you'd act like that! Always so cool and composed…"

"Sorry," I say again.

"No need to apologize to me," he says between giggles. "I'm not the one you verbally bitch-slapped."

"You should've stopped me."

He snorts. "Right. Like I knew you'd do something like _that_."

And for a handful of minutes after that, aside from Duo's occasional chuckle, we're silent.

"So, what kind of car do you see me driving, anyway?"

"Something bulletproof."

In my peripheral, I see him eyeing me. "You're serious, aren't you?"

I frown. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Why wouldn't you, indeed?" He laughs again. "What about a tank, then? Cruising the streets at a solid 40 miles an hour. That sounds like my style."

"Now you're just being a smartass."

"No, no," he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "I think you're on to something. After all, how many people would road-rage a fully armed tank?"

I can't help but smile. "Fully armed, hmm?"

"Of course. You think I'd own a tank and not arm it? Come on, Heero, I thought you knew me."

I hum and roll my eyes. Seeing that, he punches my arm with a sound of mock anger.

"Where do you want to go?" I finally ask. "If I make it home, I plan on staying put."

"You're such an old man," Duo grumbles. But after a brief pause he says, "Actually, I want to see 'Fei's dojo."

"He's not going to like it if you harass him on the job," I point out, "especially in front of all those parents."

"I won't harass him… much…"

I don't say anything, but he gets my point.

"Joking, joking… I'm really just curious… I can't imagine him handling all those snot-nosed brats very well. He's not exactly what you'd call 'patient'."

I am convinced he won't harass Chang to the point of making him unbearable to live with, so I take the exit for the dojo. Exactly seven minutes later, I pull into the parking lot. Including Chang's car, there are ten cars parked; four sedans, one sports car, three minivans, and two SUVs. All nondescript and unthreatening. Then again, the most serious threats often appear that way.

The building itself is bland—a large, grayish box with few windows, an entrance, and an emergency exit. It doesn't appear to be ideal for a quick escape, though if I know Chang, he has a few hidden tricks just for such an occasion.

Duo hums, peering out the window at the building as I pull into an empty spot furthest away from the other cars. "More rundown than I had expected."

"What exactly did you expect?" I ask, putting the car in park.

He shrugs as we climb out of the car. "I guess something like what you see in the kung-fu movies; all mystic and … well, Chinese-y. Then again, this is Chang we're talking about."

"You've been watching too many movies."

A few parents are sitting outside on provided wooden benches, smoking or enjoying the mild evening while their kids learn effective ways to kill one another inside. I take a quick survey of each one, ushering Duo into the dojo ahead of me. Apparently lost in their own lives and the gossip of others, they don't pay us any mind.

I hope they keep it that way.

Just inside and to the left is Chang's office. There is one window, bulletproof, on the door and the office small, extremely neat, and primarily for show. The only people who go in are the parents of first-time students.

Duo and I pass through a second door into a gym. Large mats cover most of the floor. A track rings the mats. We stop to let a handful of ten-to-twelve year olds jog by. The parents that wish to stay and obsessively watch their children can sit on the bleachers. It must be the end of a class, because it looks like those parents are gathering their things, getting ready to leave.

"What do you think's going on there?" Duo points to a few older students that linger on the outer edges of the mats, stretching. Chang appears to be in the middle of a conversation with them.

"Sparring, I think." I lead the way through the bleachers. "He does it after classes. Says it keeps him on his toes."

"Can anyone do it or is it just for his students?"

"I'm not sure."

He turns to me with a grin as we sit down. "You should do it."

"What?"

"I want to see you kick his ass."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

He shrugs. "Hey, his kids need to see he's human."

"Not sure Chang will see it that way."

Duo eyes me with a growing smirk. "You're not scared, are you?"

"No," I growl.

"Chicken."

"Duo."

He starts clucking softly under his breath.

"Are you five?"

With a shrug and a grin, he continues to cluck.

I huff irritably. "Fine." I stand and glare down at him. "But you're doing it, too."

That silences him. He blinks, glances at Chang, and then back at me. "What?"

It's my turn to offer a small smirk of my own. "You heard me."

"Yes, but…"

I fold my arms over my chest and wait.

"I'm not a chicken," he snaps.

I don't say anything.

"Oh, fine."

I hold out my hand. With a laugh, he grabs it and we shake. I make my way down the bleachers.

"You're a dick, you know that?" I hear Duo laugh behind me.

I don't even grace that with a response.

Down on the floor, Chang has just sent another of his older students to the mat. He moves to strike, pulls the punch at the last minute, and offers the young man a hand to his feet. They bow to one another and, as he straightens and the student walks away, he catches my eye and frowns.

"I'm here to spar," I say, answering his unasked question.

His frown deepens as he scans the bleachers. Then he rolls his eyes. He must see Duo. "Ah."

"Problem?"

"No." Sighing, he cracks his neck. "I accept." Stepping off the mat briefly, he takes a sip of water from a nearby bottle. "Take a moment to stretch."

And I do just that as he turns and engages one of his remaining students in conversation. I am an idiot, really, for allowing Duo's taunts to push me into this. I'm no coward and he knows this. I have nothing to prove.

Yet here I am.

Chang finishes his conversation and returns to the mat. "Ready."

I nod once. We step apart from one another, obey the niceties of the sport with a bow, and assume position. I glance around briefly before he makes his move. Some students still linger, as do parents. I can't destroy him in front of them. Who knows what they assume? I have to fight fair. I have to fight with his discipline. In this, he will have the advantage.

Damn.

In my peripheral, I see Chang's foot soaring through the air towards my face. I manage to duck and block the following fist.

"Pay attention," he growls.

No need to tell me that.

We spar. He is good. Each kick is sharp, the landing of each fist precise. No movement is too large. Each attack is more powerful than the last. He knows how to use his opponent's weight and momentum against him and does so with finesse. I block, parry, land several strikes of my own. We could be evenly matched.

If I fought to my full potential, I would be better.

A kick catches me in the gut and, in a final, sweeping motion, Chang pins me to the mat. He glares down at me, nostrils flaring. The sound of a handful of people clapping reaches my ears, bringing me back into the moment.

"All right, stop getting cuddly, you two."

I look aside to see Duo standing at the edge of the mat, arms folded over his chest. He's smirking, but it's not an entirely amused expression.

Chang stands and, offering me a hand, pulls me to my feet. We bow to one another again. As I leave the mat, Duo catches my arm.

"That was weak."

I growl at him and he shrugs, releasing me. He kicks off his shoes and steps onto the mat as Chang dismisses the rest of his students.

"How about it?"

I glance at Duo, arching a brow. He moves around me lightly, taunting with just the movement. You have to be joking… "Don't you mean Chang?"

"Yeah _right_. After that pitiful excuse for a—psh, I don't even _know _what that was—I decided that I want to fight _you_, instead." He smirks. "Unless you're scared."

"Seriously, Duo?"

He shrugs. "Chicken."

"Don't be an ass, Maxwell," I hear Chang say from across the gym.

"Too late for that, sweet cheeks!"

I roll my eyes. "Let's get this over with."

Duo doesn't bother with niceties. He lunges at me with out so much as a clue he's ready to start. I catch him just in the side just in time with a well-placed strike. The force causes him to step aside, away from me, but he counters with a violent kick that knocks my knees out from under me. Immediately, he follows through with an elbow to the back of my neck—or tries. I rise, thrusting my shoulder into his abdomen as I go. It knocks the wind out of him and he crashes to the mat. Animal that he is, however, he rolls to his feet and is on me again in a heartbeat. His manner of fighting is proof he grew up on the streets. Biting and clawing, relentless punches and brutal kicks, he is positively feral. There is no way I can play by the rules with him.

We circle each other. He dives, taking me down. I thrust the heels of my palms into his ribcage and he rolls off me, wheezing.

I lurch forward, frowning. Shit. "Duo-" I should've known better.

Snarling, he throws himself at me again, jumping onto my back, locking his arms around my throat. He squeezes tight, the exertion he takes evident by the way he is breathing. I claw at his arms, but to no avail. He's like a boa constrictor. Black shadows are creeping into the corners of my eyes. No _way_ will I let him win. With a mighty heave, I manage to flip him over my shoulder. My neck cracks painfully as Duo lets go and hits the mat with a resounding '_smack!_'

He rolls to his hands and knees, places one foot on the ground. Then the other. Pushes to his feet. And sinks back down to one knee, gasping. I narrow my eyes slightly. I will not fall for this again. Then he falls a little more, coughing hard. A loud wheezing permeates the silence. A jolt shoots through me. Idiot. I should've known. For all his swaggering, he wasn't ready for this. God, I only just found him days ago! I jog towards him.

"Are you-?"

There is another shout and suddenly, his body moves. His foot sweeps out and _I _am on the ground. I try to get to my feet, but Duo lunges forward, pinning me back to the mat. He grins maniacally.

"That was dirty," I spit.

"Surviving isn't about playing nice," Duo replies, deranged grin still on his face.

"Pull that trick again and I will kill you," I snap.

"Sore loser."

"Don't give me that shit."

Duo glares down at me.

"Go. Over there." I gesture to the bleachers. "Cool your head."

He mutters under his breath, climbing off me, but does as I say. Chang comes up beside me and pulls me back to my feet, watching Duo with a frown.

"He's hurt."

"He'll get over it."

"I mean physically. It wasn't all a trick."

I squint at Duo. He doesn't notice me watching just yet. Leaning forward, he puts his head in his hands, only to sit up hastily and lean back instead against the bleachers. His brow furrowed. "Think it's serious?"

"Can't tell."

"Well, I'm hardly surprised. He was vicious."

"So were you."

I shrug and look away when Duo waves cheekily at us.

"And Yuy?"

I glance at Chang.

"Don't _ever_ hold back on me again."

"Noted."


End file.
